


Secret Identities

by Broba



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Homestuck
Genre: Secret Identity, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:11:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broba/pseuds/Broba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well here it is- the biggie. My great work in progress. This one started off as an interesting prompt, and quickly spiralled into something way longer then I originally intended. It's all coming together better then I thought, too.</p><p>The city has a new protector, a dark knight, a legend. They call him..........</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

_The city squats down under the rain and biting wind, hovering over the river mouth like a gigantic stone beast waiting to pluck prey from the waters below. Sometimes I think of the city as a lusus, nurturing all within her folds her quick to punish weakness or correct indiscipline. Sometimes I think that the lusus is mad, and all of the offspring will be culled by her claws and thrown to the waters._

  
[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

 

The First Museum of Visual Arts and Science had been displaying a new work, a series of graphic designs in jarring, incoherent colours and shapes. The artist has publicly stated that he wanted to explore themes of madness and acquiescence, all that kind of thing. It was the kind of talk that was honey-sap to Subjugglators, and they descended by the first light of dawn. The great bronzed doors buckled under the strain of ferocious blows, and they burst in. Weilding massive clubs, staves and rams a gang of them charged directly through the lobby. They ignored the priceless pieces from throughout Alternia, or at least if they did not pay attention nor did they restrain themselves from knocking over delicate ceramics and casually raking horns over canvasses in passing.

Subjugglators had become more of a problem in the city, however they were not considered an illegal entity in themselves yet- that would cause too many political problems. Mostly they kept to themselves anyway, in their horrifying rites and ritual dances. Sometimes, though, something would get under their skin and inevitably some charismatic figure would stand up among the writhing orgiastic horde and announce that something ought to be done. When that happened, the Subjugglators were like storm waves whipped up by winds. They came out of the dawn light, bright white faces painted unnaturally pale bobbing through the darkness like weaving spirits.

At the apex of an advancing wedge of Subjugglators was their leader, a vision in purple stripes and polka-dots, he carried an oversized skittle in each hand as a club and kicked open the high doors to the visual arts wing savagely, splintering the wood. He was the Juggler, his ferocity was legendary and his blood was high. Piping laughter echoes through the halls dimly lit by gloaming dawn. The alarms of the great museum were silent, severed, but they knew that they could not have possibly cut all the lines and somewhere out in the city authorities were being alerted. That suited the Juggler, he wanted them to come. The chance to try himself against legislacerators was to be savoured.

The graphic arts hall was lined on either side by canvasses bearing jagged geometrical shaped in solid black overlaid on vivid colourful fields. The Juggler stopped in the centre of the hall as Subjugglators clustered around him and around the walls. He took a moment, revolving, staring with sleepy-looking lidded eyes at each work in turn.

"This is madness?" He mused, "madness?"

There was a smattering of chuckles around the room, they were all looking at him. They loved it when he spoke about things he was thinking.

"Well," he grinned amiably, "it doesn't look so bad to me!" That got them, they laughed uproariously and he held his skittles aloft, "it's all shit! But we're going to do this city a big fuckin' favour and put things right! Let's show them what happens when you tempt the fuckin' madness!"

They screeched and howled, and tore at the walls with claws and horns. They ripped down pictures and tore them, but them, defecated on them. The chaos was deafening as the Subjugglators gave in to it. The Juggler raised his arms and tilted his head back, taking a deep breath and just enjoying the sheer miraculous carnival that had erupted all around him. Truly, it was a moment of quiet contentment for him. He almost didn't hear the sounds of pain and struggle coming from behind him in the lobby.

Three Subjugglators brought up the rear, they were slower then the others with bellies full of faygo and sopor and had only been caught up in the night's activities because they lacked the wherewithal to question what was happening. One of them stood in front of a glass case containing some artefact of ancient days carved out of wood, a crude representation of a face, fully as tall as a troll.

"Look at this thing, it's fuckin' freaking me out," he said, but the others weren't listening, "ugly lookin' motherfucker."  
"Everyone's a critic," came a voice from behind him. It was low, too low, and gruff. A black clad fist struck the Subjugglator on the back of the skull and drove his face through the glass against the unyielding wooden carving, the big troll slumped over without a sound. The other two were already laid out ont he floor, unconscious, one of them had been knocked out with his own club.

The Juggler strode into the lobby, already half way through yelling for the stragglers to keep the fuck up when he saw the puzzling scene. Out of the corner of an eye he thought he saw something black swarm vertically up a wall into the enclosing shadows around the eaves.

"He's here," he yelled over a shoulder, "it's him! _He's_ here!"

 

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

 

The roof of the museum was a maze of ductwork, vents and shafts. All of the mechanical contrivances required to maintain the atmosphere within. A lithe black silhouette leapt and tumbled over the surfaces with barely a sound, limned against the weak dawn light. Wherever the Subjugglators massed there was confusion and chaos, and that meant opportunity. That they had come here to the museum was more then good luck- it was rich pickings too alluring to resist, despite the danger that the clowns represented when they were riled up. The figure landed on a slanting rooftop, seized the ornate edging and flipped over it. She landed on a windowsill projecting barely an inch out into the air, balancing nimbly. The window itself was too high above ground level to be considered a security risk, the lock was a joke and she was inside in moments.

"The purrowling jungle purredator stalks her prey," she smirked under the mask, "tonight she hungers for diamonds!"

It was almost too easy. She would have her pick of the easily transportable and high-value goods to be found around the upper floors, be gone before anyone even realised she was there, and by this time tomorrow the suspicion would all be put onto the Subjugglators. Nights like this were rare, usually things were actually complicated.


	2. Chapter 2

Blossoms of opaque white gas exploded into life up and down the hall, the Subjugglators suddenly found themselves in a miasma, most of them assumed that some joker had brought along a couple of gas grenades just to put an extra edge on the party, and why not? There was a hoarse scream, and the massive room went quiet for an instant, before erupting into fury. Then there was another, and another, brief cries of shock cut off suddenly, the sound of bodies hitting the ground bonelessly.

The Juggler stood in the doorway, watching on in dumbfounded shock, by the time the smoke cleared enough to see there was a cluster of maybe fifteen or sixteen Subjugglators stood in a group in the centre of the hall, they were all wide-eyed and gibbering in fear. Around them were bodies, some unconscious, some perhaps not, laying where they had fallen. The Juggler rapped his skittles together for attention and roared into the room.

"Who _is_ this guy? Who the _fuck_ is fuckin' _fuckin'_ with me?"

He had never seen Subjugglators in such a state. They were the instillers of fear, the essence of madness, the very tincture of rage. No one did this to Subjugglators. No one except... him. The same story was being told and retold on the streets everywhere in the city now. You had better watch out, they said, you had better not cry. You'd better not shout, they said, before telling you why. Nothing stopped him, they said. All you see is black, and then if you're lucky you might wake up later. He watches, he sees you. When you're sleeping, when you're awake, he knows. He knows.

A black shape descended from somewhere above. Massive thick velvety wings like sheets of ragged blackness enclosed one of the Subjugglators, he didn't even have time to cry out before he was dragged up and out of sight- there was no sound after that.

"Well that's just a fuckin' poor show for a brother to make," remarked The Juggler with a bright mad grin plastered over his face. "What we're dealin' with here my brothers is a failure to respect the established order of things. Brother Juggler going to have to lay shit down all up in this house."

He reached both into the depths of his voluminous velvet clown pants and pulled out a thick metal tube with a twist-toggle protruding from one end, it was daubed in jolly bright neon paint. He twisted the toggle and pulled it free, rolling the tube across the hall. The Subjugglators saw the danger in time and scattered, as The Juggler stepped back out of the hall they chased after him. No one stopped for the fallen, a few of them were still twitching, it didn't matter to them. Fallen meant fallen. The tube exploded in gouts of noxiously purple gas- the dreaded biochem weapon the Subjugglators were dreaded for. Normally such devices were forbidden in all but the most pressing wars, as gas was far too unpredictable an instrument, but The Juggler liked it that way.

The gas was electrorepellant and contained minuscule charged metal particles suspended in the medium, it therefore spread unnaturally quickly and evenly. The walls were stained pale purple rapidly and began to hiss, the paint flecked and bubbled and wood became pitted and ruined. Those Subjugglators caught in it were dead, if not before it hit then certainly as soon as they took the merest suggestion of a breath.

A black clad figure raced up the stairwell in the adjoining room chased by the grasping fingers of the gas, he raised a small pistol and fired, loosing a filament wire that penetrated a beam above and instantly bonded with the surrounding material. A press of a button on the pistol grip and the line contracted, winding itself into a series of dense molecular spirals in the pistol reservoir, the figure was pulled aloft as the line went tense, buying precious seconds as he made the upper floor. He strode up to a solid wood door and kicked out savagely, breaking it open without pausing his stride, and walking through. He passed through a gallery of ancient empresses, who looked down with painted faces that showed stern disapproval in general but perhaps they were a little pleased by an effective display of violence. The gas passed through, dilute enough that it was barely visible, but the paintings nonetheless faded and melted slowly. He burst through another door and up a flight of stairs, when he kicked open the door to the modern ceramics and jewellery wing.

The thief had already pilfered the contents of several glass fronted cabinets containing a kingdom's ransom in jewels which were fitted snugly in a pack on her thigh, when the doorway exploded in a  shower of splinters and a black vision entered the room, instantly dominating the space with flaring wings of pure blackness that trailed behind him, she strangled a cry in her throat, for an instant she was gripped with pure terror, a momentary weakness she would never forgive herself for later on.

They regarded each other, both equally outlandish visions in their own way. He was covered in close-fitting black plated armour not like anything she had seen before, and she had tangled with about everything the security wing of the Legislacerators could throw at her. If it were not for the opening in the face where she could see a living mouth clenched with grim determination she might have thought it was some kind of robot. What she had taken for wings was actually some kind of a cloak, though it moved and fell in a way that was odd, and suggested something more then common fabric. The plated cowl it wore had tall sharp projections, she imagined that the troll within must sport a proud, needle-sharp pair of horns.

She herself was no less unusual to him, her very feminine appeal was accentuated by bands of tight leather that circled her midriff from hip to bosom, she had a belt that bore pouches and equipment, all low slung and tight-in against her body. He imagined that she could move very quickly, and with perfect balance despite her tools. Her head was enclosed in a thick leather half-faced mask which terminated at her nose and bulged around her eyes with powerful looking optics, he recognised powerful low-light lenses.

As much as he had become a dark legend of the streets she too had been spoken of- a thief who could get into any location, take any item she pleased. Her crimes were almost playful, designed to embarrass and mock the proud Blueblood class; she only took what could be carried away by hand and specialised in hard-to-find items, rumour had it that barely half of what she took was reported as she seemed unerringly to go for items the bearer would be utterly humiliated to reveal they owned, let alone had lost. Not exactly a threat to the average city goer however, so he had ignored her activities just as she had apparently stayed out of his way- until now.

She looked at him and said, "Meow."  
"You took the words right out of my mouth," he strode to the tall windows, one of which was still open to the air, and looked it up and down critically.  
The thief was not used to being ignored when she was doing someone a favour by standing still for once, "And there I thought this was going to be an ordinary night," she grinned, "it's turning into a party."  
"This party's about to become a real gas, we have to get out of here- now."  
"Your place or mine?"  
"Sorry, tonight I'm washing my hair."  
"Want me to-" she stepped closer, her boots were thick-soled and shock absorbent, and happened to give her an alarmingly noticeable wiggle in her walk "-hold the towel?"  
He turned smartly to face her and found she was very close to him indeed, "Maybe next time," he smiled thinly, "if you buy me dinner. Did you break open any other windows getting in?"  
"Why, are you going to send me the bill? Maybe you could just give me a slap on the wrist instead," she pouted teasingly. Something about his stony, impassive mien was doing things up and down her spine. It was the self-control perhaps, she had never seen anyone so preternaturally calm around her before, at least in her costume. Suddenly, he clasped her arms, staring into her eyes. He was strong, and fast too.  
"Windows! Did you break any." His voice was low in his throat, rough, "please."  
"No, no I didn't break any."

He lifted her easily and set her on the windowsill, before touching a fingertip to the side of his cowl at ear level, activating a communicator link.

"The place is filling up with gas, fast. How long will a sealed HVAC building up to city code hold in the worst of a Sub-jug gas bomb?" He paused, listening. She strained, and could just about make out something on the edge of hearing. "Understood. Break into the systems and activate the air conditioning extractors in three minutes, funnel everything through the main outlet on the roof." The unseen interlocutor must have said something else because he smiled, "I'm going to light a fire."  
"A gas bomb? Are you serious? They wouldn't?" She hesitated on the windowsill, halfway between leaping out into the air and the need to know what this mysterious man was doing.  
"Why not? They're insane."  
"Coming from you, that's something."  
"Get out of here, I don't know if this is even going to work."

He pushed his way out of the window and closed it behind him tightly, she leapt to a gargoyle, then up a crenellated escarpment as easily as climbing stairs. He shot a line upward and ascended to the roof, making his way to the squat metal box of the main extractor as it started winding up into life on its own with a hum of industrial fans. He pulled a couple of metal sticks from his belt and crouched down mid-step to drag their tips across the rough roof surface, sparking the magnesium flares to life. He tossed them into the extractor just as the gas flowed out and ignited in a conflagration, the combination of raw thermite, all of the oxygen the conditioning system could pump and the volatile gas created a column of fire up into the air. The building's air conditioning system would never be the same, but the gas was neutralised in the conflagration.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

 

He turned away and walked to the roof edge, pausing there to look down at the road below. The Subjugglators had at least had the sense to slam the door shut behind them, or else they might all have been killed. As it was, the night had turned into a bloodbath and he had never wanted it to end like that. He rubbed at the armoured bridge of his nose with a thumb, more then anything he just wanted to peel the cowl from his head and scream, and he might have done exactly that except that he heard an impact; a wary distance away the thief was perched on an ornamental sculpting. They stared at each other.

"Why did you do that," she asked, "you already showed the Sub-jugs who was boss."  
"That's not what I do," he replied, "I'm not trying to control anyone. I want to protect people."  
"Why?"  
"Someone out there ought to."  
"Does that mean you'll try and stop me?"  
"I already did."

He held up a fist from which dangled a very familiar looking white cloth pouch. She instinctively put a hand to her thigh pack but it was empty. When he had grabbed her and lifted her up, that had to be it. But she hadn't even noticed! He was _good._

She shook her head and laughed, "Okay, you win this round, but we'll play again!"

He didn't reply. He stood up straighter on the roof and she could see he was about to jump, oddly she wasn't afraid for his safety, not at all. "Hey," she called out, "who are you anyway?"

He paused and looked at her, "I'm Flying Squeak-Beast Troll," then he spread his arms and his cloak billowed and stiffened behind him into the shape of black scalloped wings, and he leapt.


	3. Chapter 3

_The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll- that name had been applied by the media early on, a few grainy shots of a silhouette outlined against the moon or a bank of cloud made the front pages, and the name had stuck as soon as someone suggested what the black outline reminded them of. He had encouraged it, the criminals and scum he preyed upon needed something to fear, something they could whisper to one another. In the underworld everyone had a story- they had glimpsed him, or escaped by the skin of their teeth, or even been trussed up like a present and left for the Legislacerators to find._

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

Sollux pulled his blanket tighter around his thin shoulders and shivered, he was surrounded by space heaters but the freezing gusts still caught him, he was certain the chill would kill him. The massive cavernous space had once been a part of the city's water distribution network and was still linked to enormous tunnels that formed the long-forgotten labyrinth around the lair of the Flying Squeak-Beast. There had been no maintenance in over a hundred sweeps, but the builders had known their trade well and the place was structurally sound. The space was a vast hollow cube beneath the ground, punctured by openings of all sizes where metal pipes and tubes would once have delivered water to a servicing station hat was now little more then a few rough walls and hulks of machinery, nothing more then a heap of discarded toys from the paw of a child leviathan. Huge squared pillars shot up the height of the space providing support, and near the top of it a metal platform hung suspended from the six columns. The only light in the place came from there, where Sollux had his equipment set up. They needed to put in some walls, some proper heating, something to make it more bearable. He couldn't go on like this.

He heard the familiar sound of expander filament wire burrowing into stone and fixing, and in an instant the awful black mass of the Flying Squeak-Beast  erupted over the side of the platform and landed neatly.

"I thee you're gettin a lot of uthe out of the wire pithtol," lisped Sollux, "Do you even uthe thtairth any more? I'm thure I mutht have told you about them."

The armoured figure placed his palms either side of his head and released a tiny catch, his solid cowl came loose in a seam at his jawline and he pulled it free. Karkat shook out his hair and took the cloth Sollux offered to wipe the blacking makeup from around his eyes.

"Don't need to any more, it works perfectly. Probably saved my life tonight in fact."  
"How ith the coiling thpeed?"  
"Perfect, any faster and it'd break free of the wrist clamp."

Sollux turned and walked to the big computer display that formed the centrepiece of his little kingdom, changing the display to an overland map of the city.

"Tho what wath the route thith time?"  
"Again? I'm hungry, and tired."  
"It'th _important._ You've already been _theen_ theveral timeth."

There was no point arguing, as soon as Karkat returned it was always the same question- what route had he taken into the underground. Sollux was overprotective the the point of paranoia, but he was right to be and his attention to detail had kept Karkat on the right side of the hair's breadth between dangerous and dead many times. Karkat described his route and Sollux marked it on his chart, and updated his schedules.

"You've uthed the thickthteenth sthtreetway tunnel," he licked his lips, no word was more torturous to him then 'sixteenth,' "three timeth in the latht month, no more for a while. I will mark out your necktht alternateth. You know, you really need thome kind of vehicle to get around in, gliding ith good over short dithtantheth, but it'th thtill far too thlow for our needth."  
"I'll look into it, but I don't think criminals will be quite as impressed seeing me just... drive up."  
"Tho drive thomething thcary."  
"Funny. I'll think on it."  
"Do tho." Sollux turned to him and rubbed his forehead wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Tho. A Thubjugglator gath bomb, right?"  
"Hrnn. I can't believe the Highblood just hands those things out to his little terrors, even he would think twice about deploying military ordinance openly in an imperial city. They had a leader, too."  
"Thure, every pack neadth an alpha."  
"No, a real leader. They were actually following him, this one is different. See what you can dig up on this Juggler character."  
"Thure, did you get a picture?"  
"Sorry. Wouldn't do much good, just a big guy in face paint, same as all of them. They all look alike."  
"I gueth that'th the point."  
"Hrm. Maybe." Karkat seemed distracted. He peeled away his armoured chestplate with a relieved intake of breath and got to work on the pauldrons, Sollux could tell he was bothered, at least more bothered then someone who dressed up as a gigantic flying squeak-beast would normally be expected to be.  
"You know, you came pretty fucking clothe tonight, that gath ith theriouth thtuff, there'th no real protection from it."  
"So? It's always dangerous."  
"I'm thaying, maybe it'th time for a little more firepower?"  
"We've had this discussion. No guns, I'm sticking to that."  
"Urgh, fine, I'll write it on your tombthtone."

It was a discussion they had regularly. Karkat insisted that his way got better results. The word had spread- the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll left his victims alive mostly, if they surrendered, and started breaking limbs if they didn't. Karkat always pointed out that when he appeared a good amount of criminals just dropped their weapons right then and there, and ran in terror. If he made a point of killing, they would know they had nothing to lose and fight all the harder. Besides, most of the crimes he did manage to get involved in were frankly the work of people who were desperate, or angry, or just pushed too far. The sight of the Flying Squeak-Beast might just be enough of a shock to put them back on the straight and narrow. Sollux didn't see the logic, but he had given up trying to. His friend was on some ridiculous crusade now, and it would continue along a fixed path until what destiny had in store was revealed. Karkat was running down train tracks, and Sollux was afraid what he would meet was only the oncoming train.

"Tho, what are you thinking?"  
"I'm thinking there's something different about this Juggler. Mostly when the Subjugglators get riled up they start a party and break stuff for fun, I don't remember the last time they got worked up like this over an art gallery. I don't think this will be enough, he's going to want more."  
"You think he hath more of that gath?"  
"It's hard to come by, but if he did it once then who knows? We need to know more. I want this guy, Sol. Find out who was the artist responsible for the exhibition, they are probably in danger," Karkat half-turned and fixed him with a cold stare. Sollux hated when he did that. For at least an hour after he took off the costume he would be this way, he needed time to come down from the power.  
"Uhmm, yeth, of courth, I'll get on it now."  
"I better go. I'm already later then I said I'd be, I can't keep pretending meetings are going on this long."  
"Well, if you mutht live a lie you reap what you thow."  
"Hrnn."

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

Nepeta arranged herself on her couch artfully, she had a way of stretching that excersised and loosened each and every muscle one at a time and she revelled in it. Karkat was late of course, as he had been all the time recently, but she didn't mind. The extra time alone allowed her to luxuriate in herself like this, and it would have been very difficult to explain exactly why she was creeping into their hive through the window dressed in skintight leather if he had been there. She flexed her fingers and examined the backs of her hands thoughtfully. So many little pretties, diamonds, jewellery. It would have paid for the place for the rest of the sweep. At the rate she was going she might have to find actual employment and that would be simply intolerable.

She rolled over and moaned in delight as her spine crackled satisfyingly when she flexed and pushed her rump upward. She pushed her hands out in front of her and drummed on the couch arm in delight before letting out her breath with a low purr.

Sitting up, she went to her husktop on a whim and batted at the mouse playfully until it activated. She ran a search on Flying Squeak-Beasts, and then narrowed down her options to sightings within the city. Sure enough, pages devoted to the mysterious avenger flooded her senses, and she began to read avidly.

Karkat let himself in quietly and saw that she was bewitched with her researches. He came up behind her and laughed softly when he saw what she was looking at. In turn she gave him a playful pouncing and welcomed him home.

"What is this shit, Flying Squeak-Beast? You're not seriously interested in that stuff are you?"  
"Haven't you heard? There was some kind of explosion in the city centre a few hours ago, I think he had something to do with it!"  
"I hadn't heard, and there's no such person on account of it being urban legends thought up by a bunch of sopor-crazed hobos looking to score a few BD's out of gullible reporters!"  
She pouted cutely and he felt his spirits rising despite his perpetual scowl, she always did that to him, "you're just a big mean cynic Karkles, besides I know it was him tonight!"  
"So there's a Flying Squeak-Beast blowing things up? Sounds like a lusus got loose and went nuts."  
"Why do you always have to be like that? Isn't it just so romantic, someone is out there fighting evil!"  
"In a ridiculous costume. I bet it's a FLARPer taking things a lot too far. I bet the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll just wants to be Pupa Pan deep inside."

She made an angry squeak and through a pillow at him but she didn't mean it, Karkat was Karkat and she just had to take him for all he was. For his part, Karkat feigned legendary rage at being pillowed and leapt on her, expressing his vengeance with groping. Nepeta permitted this with a delighted purr, her Karkles might have a stick up his nook and no imagination but he did have a sweet side somewhere under it all.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

By the next night, the news was everywhere. The explosion and fire at the museum might have been attributed to the madness of the Subjugglators, and left at that. The official word of the Imperium was that the Grand Highblood would be called to explain the destruction of several significantly cultural artefacts relating to the divine personage of the Empress, which was the usual line. The Highblood would pretend to be contrite, the Empress would pretend to be mollified, things would resume their normal course. The high bloods did not so much take responsibility for things as accept that the possibility of responsibility might exist, and then be given fawning gratitude by the masses for their generosity and understanding.

This would have been the normal way of things except that several Subjugglators had been picked up by the Legislacerators near the scene, gibbering madly to themselves. Too low down on the hierarchy to fall under the protection of anyone particularly important, they had been arrested to face summary culling after a fair and unbiased trial. Then the prisoners had started babbling about a gigantic Flying Squeak-Beast, who had picked them off one by one at it's leisure. A news story instantly became a phenomenon and the headlines spread like wildfire- the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll Declares War, or The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll- Terror In The Museum, even one particularly dangerous byline, The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll- Scourge Of Subjugglators. Karkat paled slightly when he read that. There could only be trouble coming, and he knew he had to do something about it.

He turned to where Nepeta was curled up next to him. They had enjoyed a full breakfast together and she had insisted on snuggling by his lap while he read the day's papers.

"I'm going to have to go out, I have some business."  
"Where are you going? What business?"  
"Nothing to worry about, I just have to see a group about a business proposition."  
"You're always thinking about business," Nepeta yawned, stretching her tongue out and showing teeth, "just relax, if you need money I can give you some."  
"I don't need money, and if I did then I'd earn it through my deal making skills and I wouldn't be asking you."  
She tapped him on the nose. "Boop. Don't be so purr-oud. Nothing wrong with being provided for now and then."  
"I know that! I just don't require your assistance. I am just going to speak to some potential investors, I want to get a feel for their organisation. Always good to understand your business partners."  
"Mm, what investors," she was getting bored already and her eyes wandered.  
Karkat muttered something and rustled the paper.  
"Did you just say, the Subjugglators?"  
"Mmm."  
"You can't! They're crazy!"  
"And rich, and influential."  
"They'll eat you alive!"  
"I'm sure they don't really do that, and if they do then doesn't it make sense to sniff them out and find out these things before I get too involved with them?"  
"I don't want you involved with them at all! It's bad news getting close to the higher bloods, especially the crazier ones. And they're all crazy!"  
"What about your moirail?"  
"That's different and you know it, he's different."  
"Hrnn."  
"Well I'm coming with you!"  
"You're fucking not!"  
"Why? I can keep an eye on you in case there's trouble!"  
"If there's trouble, which there won't be, then I'll just keep an eye on myself thank you."  
Nepeta gave a hysterical little scream of frustration and bounced up and down, "You're impossible, I hate you!"  
"No you don't, you think I'm just dandy. You especially enjoy my daring and bravery."

Nepeta huffed and looked at him with wide eyes, Karkat could see tears forming and his heart nearly melted, but he had to find answers and the Subjugglators had them. He had no choice in it, and the last thing he wanted was Nepeta involved, he cursed himself inwardly for even telling her in the first place. He cupped her cheek and tried to sound reassuring.

"I promise. I'm just going to talk, drink a little faygo, then leave and find something to wash the fucking taste out. All very civilised."  
"I could come along and just wait quietly nearby! Like a purrowling purrtective beast!"  
"No! You're going to sit here, and wait for me!"  
"You're not listening! Why do you always act like you're the one who has to be in control of everything and everyone just has to obey you!"  
"I don't want to control anyone," he said softly, "I want to protect people."

For some reason, that seemed to stop her cold. She just stared at him oddly. Karkat ignored her and stood up, he hated to do it but he had to be firm with her. The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll could not just wander up to the lair of the Subjugglators and their regent, the Grand Highblood, for a quiet chat- but Karkat Vantas, businesstroll and noted philtrollthropist could.

When he left, Nepeta ran to her wardrobe and practically yanked the false backing out, revealing the hidden cache of equipment there. She stripped off and swaddled her naked body in leather and support harness, equipping herself with hurried shaking hands before pulling on her mask. Nepeta couldn't force Karkat to accept her help, but the Purrbeast Troll could keep an eye on him whether he wanted her to or not. She pulled open her window and swarmed up the side of the hive with ease. Something bothered her, something Karkat had said, she had the weirdest sense of deja vu.

No time to think about it now, her matespirit was in danger and if the Subjugglators turned nasty he needed more then bad language to defend himself with.

 


	4. Chapter 4

_Karkat Vantas- noted businestroll and philtrollthropist. Since taking up an executive position on the board of trustees for the Ninety-Nine Lucky Thunder Business Group which he helped to form. As controversial as he is brilliant, Vantas has aggressively perused a policy of improvement to the city infrastructure that has benefited the citizenry as a whole. Naturally the highblooded elites play a big part in all financial activities, but Vantas has proven himself to be an astute dealmaker despite his somewhat outsider status, always playing a weak hand to fullest advantage and proving himself capable of using smaller assets to control large interests._

_But ladies don't be rushing for the most eligible quadrant bachelor just yet! Vantas has been enjoying a highly successful matespiritdom with Nepeta Leijon, and although he has been cagey in public it is widely speculated that they might be heading for the large metal receptacle store some time soon!_

_In other news today, an explosion in the downtown area has been blamed on the so-called Flying Squeak-Beast Troll..._

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

Karkat departed his company car in front of the massive hive dedicated to the Subjugglators by imperial largesse. They tended to wreck any place they settled, and so they had been given a huge reinforced structure that had originally been a heavy industrial plant.

There was no specific entrance, the building had several huge portals through which industrial goods had once flowed, and people tended to wander in and out as they pleased. The Subjugglators were not particularly concerned with security. Their opinion was, if anyone wanted to break into their lair, well let them! Always welcoming to strangers, it was leaving that might prove problematic. Karkat was assaulted with the noises of merriment as he wandered into the huge black space, the light came from naked flames lit here and there and he could see some fire-dancers hard at work. Jugglers, tumblers, acrobats, makers of merry. Every face was painted in different variations on the theme of pale white. He tried searching out faces at first, but the Juggler could have changed his face a hundred times by now and probably had.

He didn't bother asking for someone in charge to meet him, the Subjugglators didn't really work that way. He moved to a circle that had gathered around a burning barrel and sat down, making himself comfortable. He showed the barest minimum of interest, smiling when it would be expected of him and swapping pleasantries but saying nothing otherwise. Sooner or later, he knew, someone would come to investigate what he wanted. He decided to wait for them to talk to him, he wouldn't make it easy on them.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

High above, Nepeta swarmed over the roof of the hive. She had gone out in a long coat over her costume, with the mask in a pack. Taking the tramway across town after Karkat she had avoided any undue attention, those who caught a glimpse of tightly leather clad leg under her coat just assumed she was a dominatrix going to work and left it at that. She had no trouble ascending the building, her clawed shock-boots and gloves let her crawl up most surfaces as if they were horizontal. Only hardened concrete or glass gave her trouble, and he had a few ideas about ways to deal with that in future. She forced open a skylight and stared down into the black indoor carnival that was the home of the Subjugglators. Pulling on the mask, she could see into he inky blackness perfectly and at range, but it was hard to make out individuals, too many people were wandering around. She squeezed inside with a muttered curse, she could not just give in now.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

Karkat felt a large hand clamp down on his shoulder, he knew it was time. He looked up and smiled, showing teeth. The big Subjugglator lead him through the hall to where a series of office cubicles had been erected by putting up temporary walls and barriers. In one makeshift room far at the back of the warren he was encouraged to sit and wait, the place held only trash and an overturned filing cabinet, which he sat on. Someone came into the room carrying a three-legged stool, which he sat on opposite Karkat. There was nothing in the eyes of the Subjugglator, the makeup wasn't familiar. But yet, the build was about right, the height and the horns, it could be him. Then again, it might not.

"So, why you here bro? What brings you to the carnival?"  
"I take it you're aware that the Ninety-Nine Lucky Thunder organisation has contacted the Subjugglators before, to establish a business relationship."  
The head nodded slightly, the eyes were fixed on him.  
"You're aware of the overall project goals we're working towards?"  
Again the Subjugglator nodded mutely.  
"The trustees have the most... exacting standards in our business dealings. You'll understand if we ask a few questions about your organisation before we go on."  
The Subjugglator parted his lips and made a sound like "ka, ka, ka, ka" in the back of his throat, it was a low throaty chuckle.  
"Oh, I'm sorry," Karkat grimaced, playing the role of the stiff businessman to the hilt, "is something amusing?"  
"Everything's amusing," replied the other, "that's what you dudes don't get. It's all amusing, it's all one big funny joke- everything is. It's like some kind of motherfuckin' miracle more people don't see it."  
"You'll have to excuse me if I don't find every single thing around me a great big laugh."  
"Don't be sorry bro, don't even pretend it," he waved a hand, "why's it even matter? If a motherfucker going to go through life all miserable it's his problem. Sometimes you got to kick back and just say to yourself hey- why so motherfuckin' serious?"  
"Mm. Well the main reason I'm here is, well, I know this will sound silly-" Karkat laughed theatrically for effect, "-there have been all these stupid rumours about a cache of Subjugglator gas weapons going unaccounted for! I know it's ridiculous, but it the sort of story we don't need to be associated with if you know what I mean..."

There had, of course, been no reports or rumours. But that gas bomb had come from somewhere which meant that either a weapons cache was missing something unaccounted for, or else the Subjugglator inventory was exactly what it should be in which case the bomb had been signed out and properly accounted for when it was given to the Juggler. The answer to that question would go a long way to determine how high up the conspiracy went. If you want to find out how many bugbeasts are in the nest, he had reasoned, kick it over and see what comes swarming out.

There was no reaction from the Subjugglator he faced, which was telling in itself considering that he had just said something potentially very inflammatory. The odd chuckling sound continued as he rose to his feet and gave a dramatic little bow, sweeping one arm back.

"I don't think I caught your name, bro,"  
"Yeah, I didn't think you had either."  
"You realise," he twitched his mouth, a strange grin, "it's just become fuckin' on, right now."  
"Yeah," Karkat slowly stood, "I guess it kind of has."  
The Subjugglator turned on his heel and turned to the door, he pawed at the handle ineffectually and turned slowly, patting his pockets dramatically, I think I forgot the key!" He puffed out his cheeks, miming deep thought by scratching at the top of his head before turning to knock boldly on the door.

In answer, the entire far wall of the room except for the door itself slowly collapsed outward, leaving the Subjugglator to make a massive comedy shrug at Karkat. As bits of shtick went, it wasn't bad. He then pressed his hands to his lips and blew a kiss, before darting away. Karkat didn't follow him because as the door finally collapsed leaving only Karkat in an open-ended box, four Subjugglators walked in. They held clubs, one of them was actually juggling. In the dim half-light their faces looked fluorescent with makeup, and they all howled with laughter. Karkat leant forwards slightly and balanced on the balls of his feet, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

They spread out to advance on him and their intentions were clear, it didn't take much to provoke this kind of response from the Subjugglators, in the morning it would be, perhaps, a byline in the local papers that a body was found rotting at low tide in the fog. One of them screamed and thrust his tongue out, trying to intimidate him. Karkat said nothing.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

Nepeta struggled along a gantry and under a mass of cabling and over duck board planking supported by scaffolds at the top of the hive. She could tell something was happening by the way the mass down below had spread out in a ring away from a loose collection of offices formed by temporary walls, one of the Subjugglators strode out and made a gesture behind him with a thumb, four of them took up weapons and strode in. Nepeta's heart leapt into her throat and she vaulted off the lip of a scaffold into the air to catch onto another, moving closer.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

they were happy to take things slow, as they surrounded Karkat. They liked that this wasn't going to be any quick matter, they wanted a whole evening of entertainment after all. One of them tossed his club up into the air, repeatedly catching it with the opposing hand. Karkat stilled his breathing and started to flex his knees, balancing on little more then his toes, waiting silently. As they drew in, he started to smile.

The plasterboard ceiling above them exploded in gouts of dust and plaster chips, as Nepeta landed. She swept a leg out and raked her climbing-claws across the thigh of a Subjugglator in a lurid spray of blood. Another went to club her and she crammed her fingers down his open mouth hard enough to make the clown froth blood up to her elbow. The remaining two were more then wary enough to back away cautiously from the mad vision of the Purrbeast Troll. She gripped the coils of a whip at her thigh and lashed out with it, smashing one of the Subjugglators in the face with the tip. The survivor turned and ran, hooting madly.

She turned to him and picked her way closer through the rubble, her thighs swayed sinuously and the leather was doing unspeakable things to his libido. She traced two fingers up the front of his shirt slowly, walking them all the way up to his chin.

"What's a girl got to do to meet a handsome young troll around this town nowadays?"  
"Sorry, I'm spoken for," Karkat watched her warily, she was every bit as exotic up close like this as she had been on the museum roof, and her clawed hands were now stroking gently over his chest.  
"Purr-haps she'd be more open minded then you'd think!"  
"Sorry, I'm really not into," he looked her up and down, and swallowed, "whatever this is."  
"Pity, you look like a lot of fun,"  
"You wouldn't like my kind of fun,"  
"Haven't you heard the old saying? Purr-versity pleases the purrbeast,"  
"I get all I want from my matespirit, she's all I need."  
"Doesn't that just sound purr-actically dismal!"

She was practically nose-to-nose with him now, he stared into opaque lenses, she gazed into his eyes. Behind them, there were the sounds of motion. The Subjugglators outside were starting to wonder why the fun noises had stopped.

"She's alright," said Karkat, "she's a good kid and I'm sticking with her."

Nepeta hesitated. He hadn't _denied_ what she'd said, about sounding dismal. She frowned under the mask, she had been unable to resist toying with her Karkat because the costume made everything feel so exciting, but now she was starting to feel something else.

"She must be special to keep someone like you interested,"  
"Like I said, I get all I need."

All I _need?_ That made her sound like a sandwich dispenser.

"Well! Maybe if you looked a little deeper you might find she had a bit more going on then you thought!"  
"You know we've got about two seconds before a whole gang of Sub-jugs marches right in here looking for their friends."  
"That's long enough for you to tell me what you really think!"

Karkat was starting to think she really had lost her mind when they were interrupted- more of the clowns who took one look at what had transpired and called out to the others. Nepeta looked around in a sudden panic, she realised she hadn't given any thought to how they would get out of there. She could leave any time she wanted, but getting her lazy-ass matespirit out was another matter entirely. She looked again and her mouth hung open in shock as Karkat heaved the overturned filing cabinet over his head, and brought it crashing down against the thin plywood and plaster wall next to him, punching a usable hole. He held out a hand to her.  
"Come on!"  
"Clever!"  
"Yeah, can't get ahead in business unless you understand filing systems."

He ducked through and she followed close after. The place really was a warren, whatever administrative work the Subjugglators deigned to undertake happened here, but mostly the rooms were leftovers from the last owners of the hive and were filled with old detritus, as well as horn piles and terrible yet colourful works of art daubed on the walls. Karkat kicked a door in and led them out into a narrow corridor between office cells. They rounded a corner and faced a surprised but angry looking Subjugglator with no pants. He threw a punch and Karkat took the hit, spinning around and falling to the floor. Nepeta raked her claws across his face with one hand, and jammed the other up into his groin doing some horrifying damage that put the clown on his knees permanently. Karkat stood up and rubbed his chin, he had rolled with the punch and made it look good but it still hurt. He let her drag him on.

Behind them the Subjugglators were just ripping through walls in a hooting howling mass. Nepeta swarmed up a wall where the temporary wooden ceiling ended in a black gap and reached down, helping him climb up. He was more limber then she remembered and had no trouble. They padded along in darkness on the upper side of the ceiling as the mob churned below them. They could see out into the main area of the hive from their vantage point, most of the Subjugglators were paying no attention whatsoever to what was occurring as they were too busy or bored to care. Karkat saw something and skidded to a halt, Nepeta turned and looked at him like he was mad.  
"We have to go!" She hissed.  
"One second!" He pulled out his phone and aimed at something. She looked over but all she saw was the endless mob and various racks of equipment stacked haphazardly against the far wall, surrounded by a crude tent village. "Alright, let's go!"  
"What was that for?" She hissed back over her shoulder as they tried to run stealthily.  
"It's important. Business stuff."  
"You and your business! Let it go!"  
"Now you sound just like my matespirit,"  
"Then she must be purr-etty smart, even if she is boring."

They came to a massive pillar which formed the corner of the office-warren and hunkered down. Various boxes and cartons had been casually tossed up onto the ceiling, and provided them with some cover to catch their breath and plan their next move.

"I never said she was boring!"  
"Well in that case, is she?"  
"What?  
"Is she boring to you!"  
"I don't feel like discussing my fucking personal life while hiding in a hive full of angry Subjugglators, with someone who is and I hesitate to bring it up dressed like an erotic purrbeast!"  
"You like the look?" She ran her hands down over her sides experimentally with the faintest creak of leather.  
"This is not the fucking time! And even if it was, it would very much not be the place!"  
"Mmm," but she was already distracted by the thought.  
"Look, over there, there's a door out."  
"Which one?"  
"In the corner, there's not many around it."  
"Sure, but there's plenty of them between us and there."  
"They don't know us, most of them have no idea what's going on. Just keep going and act like it's all part of a big joke."  
"Alright, let's do it."

Karkat was right. Most of the Subjugglators were either distracted with their games, or paying no attention to what was happening outside their immediate circle. They pushed and shoved their way through like they belongs there, and when anyone looked up they just started laughing, which always got a laugh in return. Karkat was sweating by the time they were half way across, there would be no hope for them if the Subjugglators decided to turn on them, and all it took was one to get worked up and they would all join in. Behind them, wood was splintering as the old offices were thoroughly trashed, they didn't look back. They crept, stepping carefully through the near-dark over splayed limbs and sleeping bodies, interspersed with the odd fight or bout of violent coupling.

They were nearly free- they could see the bright haze of light from the city outlining the square opening in the hive. Metal rails ran out through it where once handcarts had travelled. A black shape detached itself from the darkness to stand in the doorway, and another, and another. Karkat pulled up short and Nepeta gasped beside him. They hadn't got away with it. Karkat reached slowly into his pocket and closed his fingers around something.

One of the black shapes through back its' head and hooted with laughed. Karkat knew- he just knew- who it was.

"Nearly missed you motherfuckers there!" Cried the Juggler, "but you ain't leaving the party so soon right? We got all sorts of miracles to show you!"

He raised his arms dramatically and the Subjugglators next to him pulled out clubs and staves, to advance into the dark on them. All around there was stirring, something was happening and the Subjugglators knew it. They were utterly surrounded.

"Sorry," said Karkat, closing his eyes and crushing the soft bead between his fingers, tossing it from his pocket, "just a lightning visit."

There was a magnesium-bright flare and screaming. Nepeta was blind instantly, her optics disengaged and flared. The Stygian blackness was for a moment as bright as hated daylight and the clowns all roared in pain and rage. The flare sputtered and flickered, and in the strobing light Karkat leapt. He darted forwards and seized the ankle of the first Subjugglator he found, upending him. He grabbed a dropped skittle and tossed it at another hard enough to make an audible crack. He grabbed Nepeta by the arm and ran for the gap. The Juggler roared and threw his arms out like a blind man, groping frantically for them. He managed to get hold of Karkat's arm and he suddenly found himself in the lethal embrace of a Subjugglator in the throes of ragemurder madness.

"I'm-a fuckin' kill you man!" Screamed the Juggler, "I'm gonna rip you to pieces and feed 'em to the fuckin' clowns! I swear I'll murder you up good and slow!"  
"Hey bro!" Yelled Karkat into his blind face, "Why so motherfucking serious?" And Karkat head-butted him, cracking something in the clown's nose.

It was over in an instant and he wriggled free, but already the Purrbeast Troll was trying to come back for him. He grabbed her and pulled.

"I'm here, I'm here, let's go!"  
"What the fuck was that?"  
"Camera flash, my phone."  
"What the hell kind of phone does that?"  
"I've been meaning to get it fixed."

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

As they staggered out of the industrial zone her vision started to clear, although everything was blue and vivid. Nepeta just wanted to go home. She just wanted to hug her Karkat and tell him how worried she had been and how glad she was that he was safe. And, she wanted very much to claw the hell out of him and have a good long talk about their relationship.

Karkat was already waving down a taxicab when he turned and saw that she was gone, without a word or a sound. He sighed, it was probably for the best. Besides, that particular female was clearly insane and he wanted nothing to do with her. As he instructed the driver he held his shaking hands to his forehead and tried to breathe deeply. It had been very close indeed and he hoped it was worth it. He took out his phone and called Sollux.

"It's me."  
"Tho you're alive then!"  
"Only just, it's a long story. I'm going to send you a picture I need analysed."  
"Thure, what ith it?"  
"The weapons stockpile of his city's Subjugglator hive, they had everything up in racks. I want you to see if you can get a clear enough look to count how many bombs they have, and then see what you can dig up on their inventory. I want to know if they're missing one."  
"Or perhapth more then one."  
"Don't make this night any more complicated. Call me the second you have anything."  
"You got it, bothth."

Karkat got home and put aside his coat with a weary sigh, it was all too much. Nepeta had beaten him to it but only just. She had put away her costume and only had time to thrown on a robe before he got there. She wandered into the room trying to look as through she had just woken up, which wasn't hard as her eyes were still red and bleary. Karkat looked at her, his shoulders were slumped and her swayed. Whatever she had been about to say melted in her throat and she helped him to the couch. She didn't ask him what had happened as she helped him get his shoes off and curled up next to him, and he was infinitely grateful.

"It has been," he finally began, "quite a night."  
"Mmm, you look like you need to relax."  
"Yeh," he said vaguely, just staring at the wall. Subjugglators. Gas bombs. He was sure now, he had sat close enough to the Juggler to reach out and touch him. He had sat right in front of him like it was normal for them to have a little chat. Then everything had all gone wrong. He wondered where the Purrbeast Troll had come from. What was her interest in the Subjugglators?

There was movement, and he shifted. Nepeta pulled open his belt gently and opened his pants. He allowed her to pull them off him without a word, making himself comfortable.

"I'm sorry I made you worry," he said, "I'll try to be more careful. I should have listened to you."  
"Mhm,"  
"I didn't mean to get angry at you. You know how I get."

Suddenly he felt something and looked down. To his surprise Nepeta was nuzzling at his shorts and from what her lips were doing she knew exactly what she was looking for in there. He sat up straighter in surprise. She'd never done anything like that before, certainly not without him asking.

"Uh, are... are you sure? You don't have to-"  
"Shh, let me. I want it."  
"Oh,"  
"I want it _now_."  
"Oh!" He felt her lips on him, she was firm, and warm, her tongue was threatening to ruin his composure.  
"Mmm."  
"I guess it's true," he gulped, "what they say!"  
"Mmm?"  
"Perversity pleases the Purrbeast!"

She giggled around him, it made him want to leap up and scream, then she used her tongue again and he thought he would ignite. He resolved that Subjugglators could just wait.  



	5. Chapter 5

_The law and justice of the city required strong Trolls who were able to enforce the draconian and inflexible rulings of the highblooded elite with equanimity and fearless discipline. The Legislacerators were deployed around the city to provide street-level enforcement, making arrests and summary executions as they saw fit and bringing those cases to trial which required the legislative seal of approval before the inevitable culling of the wicked._

_The public face of the legislative system was of course the Chief Justifist, responsible for providing guidance and policy to the department and overseeing the activities of Legislacerators city-wide. The office was currently held by CJ Ampora, who was known for his incorruptible nature and absolute adherence to the precepts of justice._

The lair of the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll was silent except for the distant sound of rushing water, and the routine clicking of a keyboard. Sollux was hard at work and behind him Karkat paced impatiently, demanding regular updates.

"I'm in," he announced, and Karkat turned to look excitedly.  
"What's the word?"  
"Mmm, theemth a little unclear, the gath bomb inventory hathn't been thertified for thome time. Frankly I don't know how thith helpth uth."  
"Do better then that, Sol."  
"Well put it thith way. If thingth have not changed for, like, ten thweepth then thure, there would be three mithing bombth. But then, who'th to thay the inventory ith up to date?"  
"That's not much to go on. The Juggler might have stolen three bombs from the Sub-jug arsenal, or he might not have done? Maybe he has three hundred?"  
"It'th the betht I can do with thethe old recordth."  
"Then the records need to be updated."  
"There'th not due to be an imperial audit for another thixth thweepth."  
"Who can order an audit to happen now?"  
"Oh come on!"  
"Who!"  
"Well, I thuppothe it would have to come down from the offithe of the CJ, nothing leth would carry enough weight."

Karkat was already striding to the edge of the platform, pulling his mask tight against his face and leaping up onto the railing.

"What the hell thupid thing are you thinking of now?"  
Karkat looked back at him, "They say Ampora is a good Justifist. It's time to find out... how good." And with that, he leapt into the darkness with a fluttering snap of fabric.  
"Well I wath only athking," muttered Sollux, turning back to his computer, "no need to be all dramatic."

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

The very core of the city was series of silver and glass spires reaching up above the filth and depravity below, the many halls of Legislacerators clustered around and from them rose the administrative hub of imperial power. Against the backdrop of gleaming mirrored glass a black silhouette shot through the air, swooping and gliding from pillar to perch, swinging and soaring higher and higher on gossamer thread.

Eridan Ampora sat at the top of a spire in a state office richly appointed and furnished with the best that the empire had to offer- as the CJ he was entitled to nothing less. He had papers to read through and approve, enough work to take him well over the end of the office day but he showed no sign of slowing down. When something black flitted across the moonlight cast over his floor in rough-chopped parallelograms by his shuttered windows he didn't even notice.

He set down his paperwork and rubbed at his forehead, removing his glasses for a moment. He was sure his eyes were too dry. Why were his eyes so dry? He made a memo to have his secretary investigate possible causes and deliver a report by the end of tomorrow. He was reaching for a glass of water when suddenly it appeared.

The light thrown across his floor was suddenly blotted out by a shape, a shadow stretching across the room that rose and unfolded like a demonic being forming from a seed of pure blackness, the shadow rose up and defined itself as a standing figure, who lifted its arms to reveal spreading, jagged wings. He looked up at the window in a panic and it was there- the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll, stood outside his very window. The figure motioned and his windowframe exploded inwards in a crash and splinter of glass and wood. Ampora screamed in mortal horror for his very soul and scampered backwards on his rolling chair as the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll took a step, then another, into his room. Blackness darker then shadow, it stepped across towards him an unrelenting horror given shape and substance.

"Ampora!" It called out to him in a voice jagged and raw, "Ampora-a-a-a!"  
"Leave me alone!" He cried, "get out!"  
It raised an arm and slapped down something thin and white onto his desk, stabbing a finger down onto it. "Find them, Ampora! Find them- now!"  
"I don't understand!"

The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll raised it's arm and stabbed downwards, impaling the white sheet with a sliver of metal, nailing it to his desk. Ampora saw that it was some kind of throwing-sickle, but shaped with scalloped edges to represent the wings of a Flying Squeak-Beast. He slowly rose to his feet and shuffled to his desk to see. It was a sheet of paper, on which was a printout of a picture showing a rack of ordinance, with three circles superimposed on empty places on the rack.

"The Subjugglator arsenal, their gas bombs," said the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll, "find them!"  
"But this is- how could you even know about this-"

It was too late, Ampora was alone in the room again yet he had heard nothing. If it weren't for the shattered glass and the blade still quivering upright where it had been stabbed into his desk, still casting a black wing shadow across the picture, he might have taken it for some kind of mad vision.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

Nothing had been seen like it before. The next day had come and with it had come the rhythmic stamp of booted feet and the screech of heavy vehicles as the Legislacerators marched. The hive of the Subjugglators was surrounded by units of Legislacerators in beetle-black armour, armed with thermal lances and rifles, they were ready for any kind of response from the notoriously explosive and fickle clowns. The main column of Legislacerators marched up to the entrance to the vast, hulking industrial plant and at their head was the Chief Justifist himself, holding aloft written confirmation that an imperial audit- a surprise audit- was taking place immediately.

There was no legal recourse for them- their permission to bear war-weaponry in the first place was predicated on the express consent of the empress and under her the imperial bodies of law and justice, who had the right to see to it that all measures were taken to control and account for said weapons. Within the hive certain Subjugglators raced away from the unfolding scene into the warren of tunnels and pathways between bonfires to where the Juggler himself held court. He sat on a makeshift throne put together out of driftwood, old car parts and pieces of detritus. A mad throne for a mad king. He listened impassively as he was told the news. The Legislacerators were coming to inspect the arsenal and the Grand Highblood had no particular reason not to allow it, he was supposedly going to affect an air of bored indifference to the comings and goings, saving face by seeming to be above such small, petty matters.

"The CJ is here looking at weapons," mused the Juggler, leaning his chin against his fist and scratching idly at the bandage across his nose, "right after a nosy little worm comes crawling into our apple, asking about weapons."  
The Subjugglators shifted nervously. it was not the Legislacerators they feared specifically, it was these quiet moments when the Juggler mused on things. They never ended well.  
"Here's the thing," he continued, "who has any reason to link us to gas weapons? After the museum, there's only one Troll who knew exactly what we had in there."

The Juggler stood up and stretched, patting his stomach and smacking his lips with a wry grin at his favoured court of accomplices.

"Do you know who I'm talking about?"  
"Uh," one of them raised a hand, "the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll?"  
"Yes! The Flying Fucking Squeak-Beast Fucking Troll, you _fuck!_ " The Juggler leapt across the intervening distance and slapped the clown who had spoken hard enough to backhand some teeth right out of his head, he started to kick and stamp on the clown in time to his words, "The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll! I didn't know I was surrounded by such genius, you figured that out all by yourself? It's a mo-ther-fuck-ing miracle!" He started to hoot with laughter, the Subjugglator had stopped moving and his body yielded sickeningly to the Juggler's boot. None of the henchclowns moved, they knew better. It was a short trip to the end of a kicking. When he was- finally- done, the Juggler ran bloodstained fingertips through his straggly hair and took a moment to compose himself and catch his breath. The others looked at him expectantly.  
"Too late to do anything about it, looks like our hands have been forced, boys."  
"What d'you mean, boss?"  
"We step up the _plan_."  
The Subjugglators looked at each other nervously. No one had ever mentioned anything about any plan- it had all been fun and games up till then. A little rioting, a little ultraviolence, the usual sort of thing. The Juggler was thinking on a whole different level to them all, and they were all suddenly and uncomfortably aware of it. Finally, one of them had to ask.  
"What... is the plan though?"  
"You wanna know?" The Juggler beamed beatifically.  
"Sure- I mean if that's okay with you?"  
"The plan is simple my motherfuckin' best friends in all the world, it's a simple plan and it's this," he beckoned them closer, making gathering motions with his arms, "we're fucking goin' to war."

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

Chief Justifist Eridan Ampora found himself in a very difficult position. On the one hand, he had discovered incontrovertibly and without a possibility of a doubt that high-grade weaponry was unaccountably missing from the Subjugglator arsenal, a fact which no-one seemed to have any reasonable way to explain. On the other hand, he had a sworn duty to uphold and preserve the Empress' Peace, the delicate cobweb-thread that bound together the various bickering and tempestuous factions of highblooded society and if he acted on what he now knew then he might as well be throwing a brick through that cobweb. The Grand Highblood was an exceptionally powerful player with many pieces on the game board but he had enemies like anyone else, and there were other players just waiting for an opportunity to strike. A power vacuum in one area was just as bad as an excess of power in another, and if the city exploded he didn't want to be found amid the smoking ruins looking sheepish and holding a burnt out match.

Looking back, he realised that his mistake had been in assuming that there would be, at worst, an embarrassing irregularity which he could spin into a personal victory to shore up the reputation of the feared Legislacerators. He looked again at the paperwork that had been brought to him at his temporary headquarters in a wagon outside the Subjugglator hive. In one column, he had an accounting of the weapons present according to the official records, and in another column he had an accounting of the weapons that were actually seen by his auditors in a painstaking and double-checked count. The Subjugglators, and by extension the Grand Highblood himself, had simply misplaced a cache of massively destructive weaponry, and his duty as Chief Justifist was, technically, to have the parties responsible culled immediately. Ampora placed the documents in a sealed legislative pouch, and gave instructions for it to be secured in his personal document vault within his office. He needed time to think this over, and so he ordered his adjunct to announce that the results of the audit would be collated and documented in good time. The Legislacerators withdrew, leaving behind them a palpable tension in the air. Ampora sat himself at the head of the wagon and gave the order to roll out. He glanced out of the window and caught a flash of light, staring down he saw a partial reflection in the wing-mirror mounted under the window, he saw himself staring back, his face bisected in half by the edge of the mirror.

There were two of him now. The Chief Justifist, law-abiding and law-upholding scion of society who would not hesitate to execute the law of Her Imperious Condesce, and then there was Eridan Ampora, a high blood who played the game of politics as well as any and saw only a path of dangers and retribution if he moved to act. That, of course, was the nature of the game. To play well, one couldn't help but be two-faced.


	6. Chapter 6

_The success of the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll could no longer be ignored by the ruling classes. Their Legislacerators under Chief Justifist Ampora were being made to look useless as a single troll sent shockwaves through the underworld community. Trolls had taken to walking a little more boldly, they were no longer as afraid of the shadows. This fact was known- there was someone out there. Someone watching. The wicked who lived on the blood and tears of the weak had learned how to fear, and the symbol of their fear was the Flying Squeak-Beast._

_The word went around in certain circles. It was unacceptable for a lone troll to behave in such a manner. Violence in the name of the Empress was to be commended, but to fight crime for no reason other then some vague principled stand in the night was something else entirely. The Legislacerators were told to arrest the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll, to bring him to trial and to publicly execute him as an example that true power was wielded by the law alone._

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

This, of course, proved to be difficult. Chief Justifist Ampora was in a precarious position and having to fend off the various political factions and their demands was allegedly taking a toll on his sanity. Not to mention, there was still the question of what he was going to do about the Subjugglators. In the end, that little problem was solved for him by the Grand Highblood himself.

The Juggler held court in an abandoned hive on the edge of the city. The place was ragged with holes and filthy with run-off from the nearby storm drains and the ruin of neglect. The crew of the faithful who had elected to follow him in his self-imposed exile were growing increasingly restless. They had been cut off from their Subjugglator brethren and were feeling the loss as an actute mental anguish. The Juggler was starting to believe that he would simply have to kill them all if they wouldn't stop getting on his nerves. He sat on a crudely assembled pile of detritus that they had slung together and pored over the evening news sheet. The Grand Highblood had announced that rogue elements within the Subjugglator fold had acted against his supreme will and stolen certain items from their brothers. The Juggler was officially on the Subjugglator shit-list. It was no more then good politics, the Grand Highblood could not be seen to have allowed terrifying weapons to fall into the hands of an unauthorised party, and nor could he allow his political enemies the chance to question his loyalty openly. This meant that a scapegoat had to be tossed to the wolves, and the Grand Highblood had not hesitated.

"Mother, fucker," announced the Juggler, crumpling the sheet and tossing it aside. "Just a big fuckin' mother fucker is what it is."  
No one answered him. Around the room gloomy, miserable looking trolls hunkered down in the darkness. The Juggler didn't like the silence. He leant forwards and waved for attention, putting on his best showman voice.  
"You know who's responsible for this fuckin' travesty?" He raised his eyebrows and nodded conspiratorially, but it was getting harder to make them go along with his little rants, "well I'll tell you. Just listen to Juggler, I'll lay it on the fuckin' line. You think this is the... the law? You think Johnny Law thought to himself, I'm going to stick a finger in the buzzbeast hive and see if it comes out sticky?" He ran a hand through greasy hair and smacked his lips dryly, "no no no, that's fuckin' stupid. The Legislacerators don't give a shit. You need to remember who put them up to it. Who's been tormentin' us? Who's been followin' us around like some impolite fuck?"  
One of the Subjugglators coughed, and grunted something softly.  
"What was that? Speak up, let the class hear!" The Juggler giggled.  
"The Flyin' Squeak-Beast," murmured the troll.  
"Give that troll a fuckin' faygo! The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll! He's the one, brothers. He's the cause. He's the prime fuckin' principle in this shit. And what do you think we should do about it?"  
The troll didn't answer. He was losing them, he knew it, there was barely any juice left in his little gang.  
"It's simple," The Juggler intoned softly, "we kill the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll."

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

Another night. In a wareblock packed with shipping containers a small group of trolls convened together in a pool of light cast by one of the lamps hung at intervals along the ceiling. They were bartering a drug deal, and money changed hands. One of the shipping containers was opened up so that the buyers could examine the merchandise that had been agreed in the sale. Above them they were being watched. The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll crouched down on top of a high stack of the huge metal containers cloaked in shadow. He had been following the activities of the gang for some time now, but this was the first meet at which all of the top trolls in this sector would be present, such was the size of the deal. He had arranged for the Legislacerators to be tipped off about the deal and he knew that agents were even now moving stealthily closer and taking up positions. He intended to observe the arrests being made, there could be no mistakes. This night's work would lead to the disruption of the biggest illegal drugs ring in the city; the Legislacerators would no doubt call it a victory of planning and careful police action but Karkat didn't care- let them call it what they wanted. He narrowed his eyes and tensed- the moment had come. Money changed hands, there could no longer be any doubt of probable cause, they had all they needed.

Floodlamps screeched into life and lance wielding Legislacerators stormed forwards the gang members, they were surrounded.  
"Freeze miscreants!" A slender form detached from the mass of beetle-armoured Legislacerators and stepped forwards, "you are all found guilty, prepare to be arrested and tried!"

She stepped precisely but fearlessly, occasionally tapping the floor before her with a long cane that had a blood red handle in the shape of a dragon. Legislieutenant Pyrope, Karkat realised. He knew her, she was a rising presence in the justice system, playing the incorruptible servant of justice angle for all it was worth. He didn't think much of her, but he had to admit she showed a lot of balls making the arrest in person rather then leaving it to an underling.

Pyrope looked more then pleased with herself, grinning from ear to ear, her red glasses flashed in the light as she laughed.  
"Well well, what have we here- if it isn't the legendary Overly Spherical Anthonus. And I see you brought your legitimate businessfriends. Are you going to present me with some kind of a reasonable excuse for your behaviour, or shall we move things along?" Behind her, the Legislacerators looked ready to begin the pulping right then and there.  
One of the gang bosses stepped forwards to offer his hand, she did not take it.  
"Listen lady," said the big, stern looking troll, "would it do any good to say there's a lot of money in it for you to just march your pretty rump out of here like nothing even happened?"  
"Pyrope! Legislieutenant Pyrope! Remember it!" She clenched her cane tighter.

Above them Karkat frowned under his mask. Something was wrong. Those gang members were just standing there, they looked far too confident for the situation, considering they were surrounded by armed Legislacerators.

"Now just hear me out a moment," Overly Spherical Anthonus continued smoothly, "there's a way of doing things in this town. There's an order that things happen in, and you can't just push wherever you want, or you will get pushed back in hard and permanent ways. Understanding these facts is how people happily avoid tragic accidents."  
"Is that a threat? Take notes of this!" Pyrope motioned to a Legislacerator behind her. They didn't move a muscle. Pyrope didn't notice but Karkat did.  
"I know your type, The uptight, upstanding kind of Legislacerator who thinks they are gonna make that big bust and change things in this town."  
"Someone has to!"  
"Things ain't gonna change, Miss Pyrope. Everyone plays their part, everyone takes their little cut, and the whole happy merry-go-round goes around and around again. That's the way this works."  
"Forget it, I am not interested in your filthy bribes!"  
"Yeah I figure. Trouble is, all of your friends really are."

That was when Karkat realised just how badly things had gone. All of the Legislacerators lowered their weapons. Some of them were openly grinning. Pyrope backed up slowly, until she realised that in fact she was the one surrounded.  
"See, Legislieutenant, when I got the word that you'd be raiding this little meet, some of my boys said we should reschedule. But I don't change my business around just because of the law gettin' involved. I says to my boys, let us be open minded. Here is a young lady who might be of use to us. Let us give her the opportunity to realise the profitable relationships she can cultivate in this town."

Karkat gritted his teeth in frustration. It was all a set-up, and in the end Pyrope had been the target. The crime families thought nothing of buying off an entire squad of Legislacerator troopers, and they were about to add another into their fold of corruption. He wanted to be sick.

"Never!"  
Everyone stopped, time seemed to stop. It was the last thing anyone had been expecting, but there she was, shaking with indignant fury, her knuckles tightening around her cane.  
"What," asked Overly Spherical Anthonus, "did you just say to me?"  
"I said, never! You can kill me, but you will never kill justice! One day you will get what you deserve, I swear it!"

They were all surprised perhaps, but more then ready for the eventuality. One of the thugs was already laying out plastic sheeting on the floor behind her, and Overly Spherical Anthonus produced a pistol, a wicked smirk across his face. To him, it was all just another day of business. That was when all of the lights hanging from the ceiling went out at once with a sharp electrical crack. The group was illuminated only by the floodlamps of the Legislacerators, who were staring about themselves warily, they were shrouded in blackness occupying a lone island of light in a huge echoing space. One of the gang members whispered something fearfully under his breath, and Overly Spherical Anthonus cuffed him across the face with the butt of his pistol.  
"Shaddap! It's not him!"  
Karkat felt at home, at last. He drifted through the black air on a wire, arcing downward silently. He felt like he could do anything, he could taste the fear. None of them was going to say it, but they were all thinking it. Even before he stuck, they were thinking it. In the moments before they saw an utterly black form swoop out of the air, flatten one of the gang with a brutal kick to the temple and swoop up again they all had his name upon their lips.  
 _The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll._

Karkat descended on two ziplines fixed to the tiny rotors on the hips of his belt smoothly, snatched a weapon from a troll who tried to hit him, he twisted the troll's arm and punched the joint making it crack, and was smoothly vaulted back up into the darkness. Trolls started screaming and yelling, gunfire blistered the air. The Legislacerators spread out smoothly like professionals, backing out of the light and finding cover. The gang members were less organised and fired upwards wildly, and two of them were dropped by sickle-edged throwing weapons that came out of nowhere. Another was hauled suddenly into the air by a nearly invisible black wire that came our of nowhere to loop around his midriff.

In the confusion, Legislieutenant Pyrope tried to find her way to cover, the darkness meant nothing to her blind eyes but the noise and the acrid stench of cordite confused her other senses and made her stumble about awkwardly. No one was interested in her any more, though, they were being mercilessly cut down like chaff by the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll. She blundered alone along a black passageway between two stacks of the containers, when suddenly she felt strong meaty arms enclose her as Overly Spherical Anthonus wrapped her in a crushing bearhug. She was lifted off the ground and struggled fitfully until she felt something cold and metal press against her temple and the familiar click of a hammer drawing back.  
"Hey!" Called out the gangster, "I got the bitch! I'll spray her brains out I swear I will! You hear me, you fuck? I'll ice the bitch! We're walking out of here!"  
There was no sound except Pyrope struggling and cursing him luridly. The Legislacerators were too well trained to give away their positions, and from his own gang there was nothing except the occasional pained sob.  
"You hear me?" Shouted Anthonus. "You hear me freak? We're walkin' out of here! Say something!"  
"Hi."

Karkat was behind him, hanging upside-down from a line. The fat troll span with an anguished cry and Karkat seized his wrist, pressing down on the nerve plexus entering the carpal tunnel with his thumb hard enough to draw blood and Anthonus dropped his weapon with a scream as his hand went bonelessly limp. Karkat inverted and dropped from the line with the lithe smoothness of a viscous oil and swarmed to his feet. Anthonus tried to swing at him but Karkat batted his fist away like it was nothing. Flexing his wrists, two hand-sickles flicked into position and he swept his arms left and right, cutting a diagonal cross of scars over the gangster’s face. He shrieked and fell back, and Karkat took Pyrope's hand and tugged her after him.  
"Come with me, we're leaving."  
"Where did you come from?"  
"It doesn't matter, come on!"

He led her along the path toward the wall of the building, and tossed a couple of spherical metallic balls from his belt out in front of him at a bolted metal door. There was an explosion and the door was ripped apart, giving them egress into the fresh air. Pyrope tugged on his arm and he span to face her.  
"Who are you?" She asked breathlessly.  
"I'm the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll."  
"There's a warrant out for your capture, you know."  
"So arrest me." He took up her hands in his, letting her feel that he was holding his wrists out to her, "is that what you want to do?"  
"It would be my duty. It's the law."  
"It's good that at least someone in the Legislaceration thinks that matters."  
"We're not all like that team in there. There's still good men who believe in the law."  
"I'll tell you if I ever meet any. Watch out!"

Behind her, a Legislacerator staggered through the hole in the wall they had left and shouldered his weapon. Karkat threw Pyrope to the side and she had the presence of mind to tuck and roll onto her side. Karkat staggered as he took a blast from the Legislacerator's lance to the chest, and fell onto his back with gouts of smoke erupting from the ablative layer of his armour. The Legislacerator cried out in victory and ran forward, but he hadn't counted on the presence of mind Pyrope showed as she drew up to her knees and shot him in the head at point blank range with her own sidearm. She rolled over and got to her feet awkwardly, feeling around on the ground blindly until she came upon Karkat and cried out in shock as her fingers sensed warm wetness. He moaned softly and tried to sit up.  
"Don't move!" She hissed, "you've been shot!"  
"Got," his voice ground harshly, the throat modulator was ruined, "got to move, they'll be following,"  
"Here," she looped an arm under his back and helped him rise as best she could. together they staggered across the broken waste ground surrounding the hive, but there were flashing lights of Legislacerator vehicles in the distance and already reinforcements were arriving. Karkat directed the way towards a deep culvert cut into the ground which was lined with a concrete drainage trench. They staggered over the guard railing together and tumbled down the shallow incline to the bottom.

Pyrope felt over his armour carefully, trying to assess his injuries. Her hands glided over his face and the mask, and she grinned mirthlessly.  
"So that's why no one can give a proper description of you. What do you look like, really?"  
He grabbed her arm and grunted, "don't."  
"Don't worry. After what I've seen tonight... I don't know what to believe, but I'm not going to trust what I'm told any more, and that includes what I'm told about you."  
"It won't matter much if we don't get out of here."  
"I expected you'd have a car or something."  
"Why do people keep saying that? Help me up."  
He got to his feet painfully, he wasn't sure in the dark but he was sure that he was bleeding. He touched a finger to his temple and tried to hold it together long enough to get a message to Sollux.  
"I'm in trouble," he said, "yes... nearby. The drainage trench. Yes. Yes! I know! Just... alright. Hurry."  
"Who were you talking to?"  
"I have a friend."  
"Just the one?"  
He looked at her, "so far."  
"Now you have two." She got to her feet and pulled his arm over her shoulder, "come on."

The culvert gave them cover as they left the area, and a short distance away the grade gradually rose until it reached road level and the depression opened out into a ditch at the side of the road. They were illuminated by headlights almost as soon as they emerged, and a lemon yellow compact car sped to a halt in front of them. Sollux shoved the door open and Pyrope helped Karkat into the back before getting in beside him and they were away. The car was cramped and not exactly speedy, the interior was scrupulously clean however. Whoever the driver was, he remained silent.  
"Who's driving?" Asked Pyrope.  
"My friend," answered Karkat.  
"Shut up!" Snapped Sollux, "I never thigned up for thith shit!"  
"I think he's nice," said Pyrope politely.  
"Sit thtill and keep quiet!" Yelled Sollux, "we're dethperate criminalth!"  
"Easy Sol," groaned Karkat, "she's one of us now."  
"Don't thay my name! I mean, that'th not my name! But, don't forget not to thay my actual name which ith different!"  
"She's a friend."  
"Hoofbeatht-shit! She'th a Legithlatherator, in cathe you forgot!"  
"It was a set-up. The team she want in with were all on the take, they were going to kill her."  
"Theriouthly?"  
"It's true," said Pyrope quietly. "You know, I knew those guys. I worked with a couple of them for a few sweeps. I heard the stories about Legislacerators on the take of course, but I never thought the rot had set in that deep."  
"What are you going to do," asked Karkat.  
"File a report on it, I'll say that you attacked and in the confusion I could get away. The only witness who saw us together took a lead sleeping pill. There will be questions, but I can make it stick. I'll tell the truth, just not all of it."  
"Good, that works for us."  
"Nothing about thith workth for uth!"  
Karkat was about to answer when a wave of pain racked his body and he gasped, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Pyrope touched his cheek and grimaced.  
"He's hurt bad, Sol. He needs medical attention."  
"I can look after him."  
"Can I help?"  
"Not with thith. Look," Sollux sighed, "I know him. He'th not done with you. You will be hearing from him again, believe it."  
Karkat stirred and Pyrope put a hand to his shoulder to stop him moving.  
"We need to drop you off thomewhere thafe, where to?"  
"Take me to the Eastern quadrant main station, I'll be fine, I can get to safety from there."  
"Right, no problem."  
"And Sol, thanks. You really saved our lives back there."  
"Damn thtraight. I'm thuch a badath."

They let her out at the main station as she asked, and she soon got her bearings. She didn't look back as the car sped off. The Flying Squeak-Beast troll was bundled up in his cape, an anonymous black mass in the back. She knew the area well, and there were officers of the law all about the terminus, it would not be difficult finding help. She suddenly remembered something and rubbed her forefinger and thumb together- still wet. She gingerly raised them to her lips and licked, recoiling as if she had been shocked.  
"Red!"

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

Back in their hideout, which had been an enormously and painful climb for Karkat, they removed his armour carefully. Sollux had a medical kit and had applied analgesics and coagulants. Karkat rested on his back upon a camp bed.  
"We need to look at thith pothitively," Sollux muttered, "we now have a much more prethithe idea of how thcrewed we really are."  
"Thanks for that."  
"No theriouthly, we should have foretheen a lot of thith. You need thome kind of tranthportation, and we need to be better prepared for medical emergenthieth."  
Karkat laid his head back on the pillow and coughed. "How bad is it?"  
"Could be worthe, conthidering. The armour took almotht all the blatht, but you got bruithed and cut up pretty bad. You'll have thome thcarth."  
"A few more won't matter."  
"Thomething like thith wath bound to happen, thooner or later. We need to either get out now, or thtart thinking about upping our game," Sollux turned and leaned wearily against the wall near Karkat, wiping his brow with a cloth and removing his glasses to clean them too, "look I'm with you whatever you thay. I'm in, one way or another, you know it. But pranthing around in an outfit acting like a thcary fucker will only take you tho far."  
Karkat reached up and squeezed Sollux's hand weakly, "I get it. I think I might have an idea, actually."

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

Karkat managed to get home without too much help from Sollux, his chest was bandaged up thoroughly however. Nepeta would freak out, he knew, so he resolved to keep things quiet for as long as he could. In the event, that turned out to be not very long. They were sat together watching the screen when she casually reached over to stroke his chest and immediately felt the texture of bandages under his shirt.

They argued that night, until Nepeta saw for herself that Karkat was too weak even to manage a good yell, and helped him to their recuperacoon. She didn't say it, but he knew she didn't believe his vague story about having some kind of an accident down some stairs. Only her genuine concern for his well being kept her from tearing into him about it, but she would demand a proper explanation sooner or later, and he didn't have one to give her. As Karkat sang luxuriantly into the slime he reflected; he had always taken on the mantle of the Flying Squeak-Beast under the assumption that he could handle anything. The power and the fear made him feel invulnerable, but he wasn't- there were limits to everything.

Later, he heard the recuperacoon open, and Nepeta slid naked into the slime next to him, the natural motion of the thick fluid drew her up close against him, but she didn't reach out to him as she always normally did. She didn't open her arms to him and wrap both her legs around one of his. He hadn't been able to get to sleep, despite the soothing effects of the slime. He felt her slowly un-tense next to him and go limp, she drifted off to sleep without a word.

Karkat felt recovered the next day, he could move around easily enough but exertion till gave him a good deal of trouble. He wouldn't be as flexible or as strong as he was used to until he had healed up better. The sopor slime helped the body to recover but he needed more time, and there was none to spare. He sat down to an early meal with Nepeta and they ate in silence for a time, before he cleared his throat and placed a hand on hers.  
"Nepeta."  
"What is it?" She looked up at him with big, sorrowful eyes.  
"I wanted to tell you I'm sorry. I know I've made you worried like crazy and I wish I could just tell you everything that's going on, but things are too delicate right now, I just need to keep you out of what I'm doing, at least for the time being."  
"Are you ever going to tell me everything?"  
"One day."  
She looked down. It was breaking his heart, but every time he looked at her he saw the snarling mad face of The Juggler, just promising to kill him. He couldn't let Nepeta have anything to do with that world.  
"Karkat..."  
"I mean it, I'll tell you when it's the right time."  
"If you say so."  
"Nep, listen to me. I want you to promise me that you aren't going to try and look into this."  
"You mean just trust you? After you came home nearly dead?"  
"It wasn't that bad. And I do need you to trust me."  
She sighed, and nodded. "I promise. I won't ask any more questions."  
"Thank you."  
They ate in silence, Karkat stared down at his food and tried to compose what he wanted to say to her in his mind carefully.  
"Nep," he looked up.  
"Mm?"  
"Your moirail is a machinist, isn't he?"  
"You know he is."  
"You always said he was the best, is that true?"  
"Well if you'd actually swallow your pride and get to know him better, you'd know he's the best there is!" Her eyes gleamed, she was always trying to get him to talk about the subject of her moirail.  
"Is he really though? I mean, is he actually that good?"  
"I said he's the best, and he is the best. I wouldn't just make it up and I know he's my moirail but he really is amazing."  
"Huh."  
"Why do you ask?"  
"Oh no reason. Hey maybe I'll say hello to him, I know it's important to you."  
"I'd like that. You two would get along fine if you'd just get over yourselves."  
"No promises, he doesn't exactly make the effort to like me."  
"It's always tricky with him, but he's worth it. Just like I always tell him you are."  
Karkat smiled a little, "thanks, Nep."

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

Karkat did indeed visit Equius, he was starting to feel strange whenever he travelled across the city by conventional transport. He found himself gazing out of passenger train windows and eyeing suitably firm looking protrusions and rooftop gantries that would provide ample purchase for climbing gear. He couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that he was now The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll, masquerading as Karkat Vantas. When he put on the costume and mask he felt like he was so much more then he saw when he looked down at his very ordinary self sat on an ordinary seat in an ordinary train. It was a worrying thought, and one that nagged at him.

"Vantas," said Equius bluntly as Karkat entered his workshop.  
"Karkat, please. I'm not here for another fight."  
"If you were, then you would lose it."  
The way Karkat was feeling, he didn't doubt it at that moment.  
"How have you been doing? Keeping well?"  
"Vantas. Why are you interested in my overall state of health. We have not spoken in almost a sweep and to my mind this was a worthwhile achievement."  
"Look," Karkat sighed and sat down opposite Equius at the workbench with a grunt, "I didn't come here to ask you to approve of me and Nepeta-"  
"I don't."  
"Good!" He had to lower his voice again, and try to maintain his discipline, "that's not why I'm here. I want your help with something."  
"I don't want to help you, Vantas."  
"Think of it as a business proposition. I need some engineering done and you're the most capable person I knew. This doesn't have to be anything other then a financial transaction."  
"I want you to be exceedingly clear upon one point, Vantas. I am more then capable, when I refuse your business it is entirely for personal reasons."

Karkat looked around him, thinking. The place was filled with wonders, Equius had a particular genius with his machinery it was true. He was a blue blood, and an especially conservative one. He had never approved of Nepeta's relationship with Karkat, and would have attempted to squeeze the life from him bare-handed if Nepeta hadn't stopped him. Their relationship had been frosty to say the least, and that had never bothered Karkat much. He thought that Equius was a stuck-up fussbudget with no business telling Nepeta what she should be doing with her life, and for his part Equius had always made it very clear that he didn't feel Karkat was remotely good enough or, as he put it, strong enough for her. Karkat frowned. Perhaps that was the key to it- he had always tried to show Equius the appropriate respect, in his own way and biting his tongue all the while, and it had got him nowhere.

Karkat slapped his hand down on the bench surface with a sharp crack and stared into his own reflection in the squared dark glasses Equius habitually wore.  
"Fine. I am here for a fight. I'm going to fuck you up, and when I do I expect you to damn well help me out when I ask you to, fuckass!"  
"I find that statement to be doubtful in the extreme."  
Karkat pulled himself to his feet with a sigh, and walked around the bench to face Equius, who looked at first disbelieving and then openly amused. Equius got himself to his feet, easily towering over Karkat, and shook his head.  
"If I were to indulge the very tempting thought of fighting you I would only make Nepeta unhappy. You should leave now and be grateful, Vantas."  
Karkat took a deep breath. "You're a big troll, but you're no fighter. Come at me."  
Equius shrugged- he had given fair warning after all- and threw a devastating punch at Karkat.

Karkat leaned backwards half a step just outside the length of Equius's arm and caught his fist easily. He smiled.  



	7. Chapter 7

_The Factory was a large part of the industrial complex in the city. Though it was actually a network of largely automated robotic hives filled with fabrication and design machinery of all types, it was still all referred to simply as The Factory. The work done there ranged from the largest civil engineering projects to the production of durable consumer goods, and the design chief Equius Zahaak tended to keep a close oversight over each area. Along with his moirail he worked hard to both live, and be seen to live, the life of an upstanding blueblooded businesstroll._

_Of course, the honour and dignity he searched for became only more remote the higher his star rose. Ironically, the greater his achievements and status in society, the further removed he became from the purity he sought. In the highest social echelons, all was corruption, all was crime._

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0002r6gy/)

Equius opened his eyes slowly, and stared up at the high factory ceiling somewhere above him wreathed in Stygian gloom and criss-crossed with cabling and machinery. He didn't remember what had happened, the miserable runt Vantas had smiled at him, and then everything went black. Suddenly a shadow fell over him as Karkat squatted down on his chest painfully and leaned over, inches from his face.  
"I have a design schema for you, and you're going to build it. All resources are going to be placed on this project until it's done, and I'll be back tomorrow night. And the night after, and the night after that, and I'm going to break you till I get results!"

Karkat was done asking nicely. He dropped a sheaf of documents containing the details of what he wanted on the floor and stood up, running hand through his hair.

"Is there anything you want to say?" He gave Equius the look, the stare he had used to bring trolls to their knees in fear.  
"N-no," Equius was sweating profusely.  
"That's what I fucking well thought. Get it done!"

Karkat strode smartly away, and out of the factory. He wanted to make the dramatic exit, but more importantly he felt like he was about to collapse. He had been right, that Equius was strong but not inherently a fighter, but that didn't just make it easy. He could feel that he had torn something, and there was an unpleasantly wet sensation travelling down his side and belly. He was not yet recovered, and the pain was coming. Karkat found that the thought of pain didn't particularly distract him any more. He was aware of it in a general sense, but he had lost the sense of pain as anything other then another sensation to be studied and acted on. He remembered a time when a bruise, or a cut, or a cracked rib might have laid him out but now he didn't give it a second thought. The pain was just another point on the list of things he had to consider, no more or less. The mantle of the flying squeak beast had changed him, in ways he was starting to realise with a cold clarity.

He went back to his hive, where Nepeta was waiting. He couldn't hide his injuries from her. He knew he should have come up with some better kind of an explanation- he could have just told her most of the truth, that a legislacerator had shot him and he'd had a lucky escape, and it wouldn't have been too surprising the way things were these days. He couldn't do that though. He knew she worried about him intensely, and if one day she told him that she couldn't bear him to keep taking risks, that she would support him financially and he needn't do any kind of dangerous work, that it was a choice between keeping her or keeping his work, that he couldn't be sure what he would do. Karkat resolved to do anything to avoid that ultimate confrontation- Nepeta could never know. She wouldn't understand.

Nepeta greeted him with a shy smile and they shared a meal together. There was something hanging in the air between them, something neither of them could properly define, or deal with. Karkat felt like they had run into a road block and he couldn't see any way around it. Nepeta looked at him with a fractured smile that bit back tears. He tried, but he couldn't find words. They came together silently, and she helped him out of his clothes. They coupled and pressed their bodies together desperately. She gave herself to him and he showed her with his hands what he couldn't explain with his words. Nothing was resolved, except that they had expressed their feelings together, and Karkat knew that when the time came he would give up everything she asked him to.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

Across the city, in the enormous spire that dominated the courts of justice and law, Terezi found herself in an express elevator to the top, wondering what wrinkle of fate had brought her there. The office of the CJ had summoned her directly, a summons which was not to be ignored by any means, and she had dropped everything immediately.

Terezi stepped blindly out into the lobby area dominated by an enormous secretarial console, where an irritable female who stank of prurience and grim propriety directed her straight ahead through huge double doors into the office. Terezi picked her way carefully, discreetly scenting the air for clues and colours. Underfoot, she perceived the minuscule sensation of a splinter of glass crunch under her boot, she scented silica and plywood in the air. A broken window, and plyboard- a window had been broken, and hastily repaired. The workers had done a poor job of it too, obviously they had been harried into getting the hole covered as quickly as possible and thrown out of the office. She also sensed the CJ- Chief Justifist Ampora at his desk, waiting patiently for her. She snapped a smart salute and stood to attention. He was leafing through a sheaf of documents, she heard the rustle of papers clearly- thin cheap printout paper, along with thicker more expensive correspondence documentation and the slick hiss of photographic paper. Something seemed wrong with the situation. The CJ was tense, she realised, she could feel the emotional triggers of fear and panic under the surface scent of perspiration and expensive cologne. What was he afraid of? To her mind, the CJ was as close to inviolable as it was possible to be, the very scion of law and justice.

"Pyrope, yes?"  
"Sir."  
"Thank you for coming, uw-will you sit?"  
"Sir."  
She gently tapped the outline of a plush armchair with her cane and sat down.  
"I'm interested in the recent operation you headed up, Pyrope. I uw-wondered if you uw-wanted to add anything to the report."  
"Sir?"  
"Allow me," he shuffled papers, she stared blindly ahead through red glasses. One advantage she had in these situations, she couldn't be fazed by the stern gaze of her superiors.  
"Now then," he began, "you led a strike team on an arrest-strike against a group of known organised criminals,"  
"Yes, sir."  
"You uw-were acting on a tip from an informant, this is correct?"  
"The report says-"  
"Please, answer my questions Pyrope. I uw-want to get my own impressions from the hoofbeast's mouth, so to speak."  
She cleared her throat and flushed, "Yes sir. The tip came in through our public channel, normally it would be considered low priority but in this case the informant had details, names and locations which suggested an intricate knowledge of the criminal meeting in question."  
"So you uw-went in,"  
"Yes, sir. I had enough backup to make the arrest-strike without any problems,"  
"But of course there uw-were some."  
"The entire team had been paid off," her fist tightened slightly on the handle of her cane, a subconscious gesture but he noticed, "and then Overly Spherical Anthonus tried to pay me off too."  
"You maintain that you refused all illegal bribery."  
"That is true, sir."  
"And then uw-what?"  
"Then," she chose her words carefully, "there was a fire-fight- it appeared that the gang members either panicked, or decided to change the deal, and opened up on the legislacerator team. In the confusion I was able to escape." That was reasonably true. It was the substance of her report and she had stuck to it religiously.

Ampora read through the papers in front of him. It all checked out, on the surface. Weapons fire had been identified by the forensics teams, the only discharges in the area had either been from legislacerator lances or weapons traced to the gang members.  
"Uw-what happened uw-when you reached safety?"  
"I called it in, and got termination warrants for the surviving team members."  
"You uw-were very efficient there."  
"Thank you, sir."  
"Did you know, uw-we took statements from the team members before termination?"  
She swallowed and carefully maintained a cool disposition, "I did not, sir."  
"Is there anything else you uw-wish to say?"  
"No, sir."  
"Uw-one of the strike-arrest team members said that he saw something, uw-when the fire-fight was happening."  
"Something, sir?"  
Ampora carefully laid down the papers and leaned back in his chair, watching her intently for a moment. "The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll."  
"The," she hesitated, "the department maintains that there is no such individual, it's nothing more then a rumour perpetuated by anti-social elements."  
"In public, yes, that is our position."  
She waited patiently. She knew well when it was best to keep quiet no matter what.

"Uw-what do you believe, Pyrope?"  
"As a legally registered agent of law and justice I have no personal convictions during duty hours." She smiled thinly.  
"Quite so, quite so. May I be completely candid with you, Pyrope?"  
"As you wish, sir."  
"I think your report is a crock of shit!" He slapped a hand down on the table, "half those criminals had slashing and stabbing injuries consistent with a sickle. A entire team of legislacerators opened fire and didn't hit shit! And then, not only do you escape from that situation untouched, but you turn up an hour later halfway across town uw-with no explanation except 'things went uw-wrong,' am I missing out anything?"  
Pyrope raised her chin and stared straight ahead. As far as she was concerned her fate had been to die that night, and if good fortune and The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll had given her an extension on that fate she wouldn't be so naive as to expect it to last forever. She was ready for termination, if it came to that.  
"No, sir, you're not missing out anything."  
"He uw-was there! The Flying fuckin' Squeak-Beast Troll uw-was there!"  
"That is your conclusion, sir."  
"It is, Pyrope, and from now on you have new orders, uw-which uw-will be carried out uw-without fail!"  
"Sir!"  
"This department is setting up a team specifically to bring in this nooksniffer, and you're heading it up."  
"Me, sir?" She was shocked.  
"You, Pyrope. That anonymous tip may have come through the public channel but it uw-was addressed to you specifically, and then uw-when you uw-were in danger he appeared- The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll seems to feel you're trust uw-worthy, and uw-we're going to use that to get him. You uw-will be given resources and a team, you are to direct all efforts to ensnaring and arresting this man. Am I fuckin' clear?"  
"S-sir!"  
"I'm a gambler, did you know that? I took up the hobby recently. And I'm gambling that sooner or later The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll is going to contact you again. Uw-when he does, uw-we'll be ready. And let me make it perfectly clear- this is a test of your loyalty, Pyrope."  
"I... understand, sir."  
"Good. You do good uw-work, Pyrope. I like uw-what I see."  
"Thank you, sir!"  
"Uw-one last thing."  
"Sir?"  
"You're going to need authority, in order to run your team effectively and also to protect yourself from recriminations for terminating an entire team."  
"Authority, sir?"  
"That's right. In this city, you've either got a badge or you're uw-one of the little people bowing to uw-one. That's why I'm putting you in charge of your district."

She swayed slightly in her chair. She could barely believe what she was hearing- a moment ago she had been fully prepared and ready to die, and now she was being given a promotion. Not just a leg up the echeladder of success- a massive boost. A district of her own meant that she was officially someone to be watched, a big fish. Ampora was right, it was authority that would protect her- even the likes of Overly Spherical Anthonus knew better then to tangle with district level authority, at least publicly.  
"Do you have anything to say, Pyrope?"  
"Thank you! Thank you for this chance, sir!"  
"Uw-well done. I have every confidence in your abilities, District Commissioner Pyrope."  
Commissioner Pyrope. She liked the sound of that.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

The CJ had been as good as his word. Over the following month Pyrope moved into an office that made her previous desk in a cubicle look ridiculous. She had a secretary, she had budgets and allocations, she had an entire team. There was of course the problem of The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll. Sightings were rare, and for a while it seemed that he had either gone to ground or disappeared entirely- but the pressure from the Chief never let up, and she was painfully aware that her results were being weighed in a balance. She was an effective leader however, and under her inexperienced but emphatic rule the district was successfully reorganised and she led a crusade to weed out corruption and bribery among her officers. Although at first there had been wariness and suspicion towards her, the fact that she had put an entire team to death for bribery carried a lot of weight. She had real power, and was making her presence known. The legislacerators soon realised that the new commissioner would not tolerate the open secret of criminal bribery that had been rampant before, and would happily terminate any who didn't toe the line she set down.

for his part, the CJ supported her entirely. Secretly, he took a perverse pleasure in setting this particular little play in motion. He knew, deep in his rapidly maddening brain, that Pyrope had a divided loyalty between the law and The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll, and despite everything he found that he liked it. She was split between two masters, the same way that he was torn apart by the competing forces pulling on him. She was a rigid adherent to the law, who killed legislacerators and had protected The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll. As time went on, he found that he liked her more and more, and he hated that he liked it, and he loved how much he hated it, and it went on and on, he circled around himself. He was finding it increasingly difficult to make firm decisions, he was aware on a personal level that his judgement was slipping as he deliberately sought out contradictory positions. The only thing that helped him was putting the responsibility onto fate itself- he had taken to secretly flipping a coin when he had to choose what to do.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0001zrph/)

Sollux and Karkat met at a dingy freight handling yard, at an appointed time. It was strange to be together out in public like this, they kept having to remind themselves that they were ordinary citizens on legitimate business.

The sheet iron gates of the industrial compound were drawn back and they were admitted. In the middle of a wide apron of concrete before a warehive, Equius was waiting for them. He looked tense, and hugged his arms around himself. Karkat had spoken to him over the net a few times since their meeting, but had not needed to visit him in person. Since they had come to their understanding, Equius had been surprisingly compliant. All he needed was for someone to put him in his place, and he was strangely comfortable. Karkat was secretly kicking himself that he hadn't realised sooner that a show of strength was what Equius needed to respect someone.  
"I don't like thith," muttered Sollux under his breath.  
"It's necessary," grunted Karkat back at him, before raising a hand to greet Equius.

Equius nodded brusquely, and heaved open the great sliding door into the warehive behind him. Inside was only darkness, the small square of light allowed in by the door was surrounded by shadows.  
"I did as you asked," said Equius, "it's perfect." There was a definite note of pride in his voice.  
"All of it?" Karkat asked.  
"Just as the design stated. I have to wonder though what such a thing is for."  
"My philtrollthropic foundation is engaged in an irrigation project in a destitute area. This device will assist in crossing otherwise impassable gorges to lay down bridges."  
"Is that so?"  
"That's so." Karkat kept a stubbornly muted expression, he had taken the designs directly from a device intended for such use, and Sollux had come up with the additional features.  
"As you say."

Equius reached into the darkness and hit a control on a wall panel. Suddenly the interior was illuminated by blazing lamps, revealing what he had built. Karkat stared, then he started to smile. Beside him, Sollux was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet excitedly.  
"Oh yeth! Oh fuck yeth!"  
Karkat turned to Equius and nodded. "I'll need it in black."

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

_Slowly, at first, they made their presence known. It was unthinkable but true- a cadre of rogue Subjugglators operating openly in the city. The official statement of the Grand Highblood was simple- these elements of criminal activity were nothing to do with him, and he deplored their unknowable motives._

_In private, however, the Highblood was working furiously to stamp out rising fires. As the Juggler became more and more bold it was becoming increasingly clear that the Highblood was no more able to find and stop him then the Legislacerators. The situation was becoming intolerable, and above it all floated the great black shadow of the Flying Squeak-Beast._

Commissioner Pyrope slammed the door to her cramped office and slumped into her chair with a creak of protesting wood and leather. Her staff knew better then to intrude on one of these introspective moods of hers. The office was pitch black at all times when she was alone. Light made little enough difference to her so she did without it altogether. She had been given the headlines of the night's news-sheets and they made for grim reading. Another strike by the Juggler- this time a bank that was widely suspected- though unproven- to front massive quantities of mob money through a complex fiscal laundering system. The losses were substantial, but it was not about the money. Not any more. The Juggler had embarrassed the Highblood, evaded the Legislacerators with ease, and now he had bloodied the nose of organised crime. The way things were looking, it seemed like there were damn few people in positions of power in the city who weren't in some way affected. Everyone was looking over their shoulder, everyone was listening out for mad laughter in the night.

For her part, she was being leaned on relentlessly by the CJ. The office of the Chief Justifist now considered the Juggler to be the primary criminal concern in the city, but Ampora desperately needed some kind of good news to give his own superiors and that meant all of his underlings were feeling the pinch, Commissioner Terezi Pyrope included.

The trouble was, the damned Flying Squeak-Beast Troll was the most elusive figure she had ever encountered. She considered herself a good cop, without any false modesty, but the man was a ghost. The fingers of her right hand began to drum irritably on the table-top in front of her as her thoughts proceeded in a direction she didn't want them to go. She couldn't in all honesty say that she really wanted to find him. The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll was, for better or worse, the only person in the city who seemed to give a damn any more and she didn't like the idea of being the one to bring him to an end. On the other hand, and here her treacherous thoughts were enough to make her clench her eyes tightly closed against the fear that a hint of her ideas might be written across her face, what if she did find him- and helped him?

She had basically allowed him to escape custody when she'd had a chance, and that could be rationalised as returning a favour to someone who had saved her life, but she was more and more thinking that she was on the wrong side. There was one clue only, and it was perhaps the most enigmatic loop of the knot she was trying to unpick. She had got some of his blood on her hand when she had escaped with him, and it had been red. Not just the dull rust-red of a lowblooded peasant but a bright candy red that hinted at an abomination- a mutant. Pyrope sighed. Perhaps in a senseless, meaningless world it took a mutant with no rightful place to see how things really should be. She reached to her draw for the little bottle of alcohol she kept there and took a long pull, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. Focus. She really was starting to think crazy thoughts.

Pyrope lifted her head wearily at an odd sound from outside her office. Someone was talking over the microphone address system, a voice she didn't recognise. She frowned and sat up to listen.

The district headquarters of the justice forces was a large, squared-off building with multiple blocky extrusions on several levels. At all times there was a steady stream of people and materials moving in and out of the building as the work of keeping order and justice was done. There were always two guards on duty at the front entrance, atop a set of wide stone stairs which were surmounted with fearsome statues of snarling lusii. The regular shift pattern changed over at prescribed times, and two black-armoured Legislacerators marched smartly from around the side of the building to approach them, being met with salutes and returning the same.

“You're early,” said one of the guards, who was already reaching for his cigarettes.  
“Yeah, didn't you hear? Everything's got to be pin-sharp, the CJ is breathing down all our necks.”  
The speaker looked at the chronometer on his wrist and held up one gloved finger. “Shift change in,” he paused, counting under his breath, “two... one... now.”  
The guards being replaced saluted again and stood down. The new guards taking up position saluted in turn and took up an alert stance by the doors. And, when the Legislacerators coming off duty turned to leave, they were both shot in the back at close range.

The Juggler flipped up the visor on his helmet and made a beckoning motion. Around the building, members of the public suddenly stopped whatever they were doing and made their way forwards. With perfect synchronisation a sweeper dropped his broom, a vendor of snack foods abandoned his cart, a refuse driver stepped from his cab, a dozen ordinary people stepped out of the ordinary patters they had been following and converged- and all of them were armed. The group made their way into the district headquarters in total silence, gunning down any law enforcement operatives in their way, and the Juggler strode into the middle of the ground floor hall that made up the public heart of the building. Around him, a deadly, organised chaos swirled into being and blood flew in sickening splashes across the walls. Once more, the Juggler seemed to take a moment to just enjoy the show and look around him. Noticing one fallen officer groan and raise a weapon, the Juggler strode over and stepped down hard on the man's hand.

“Now now, that's just... it's just fuckin' rude.” He smiled.  
“Who are you,” hissed the officer, his breath coming in ragged bursts. A gut-wound was going to finish him off, but it was a slow process.  
“You know, it's the darndest thing,” said the Juggler, “take away the makeup and the laughter, and no one even recognises us.” He leaned over slowly, applying more weight to the officer's hand and eliciting a pained moan. His face, devoid of any makeup, seemed blank and remarkably ordinary, “that's what's wrong with you people,” he said, “no brand loyalty.”

The rogue Subjugglators moved efficiently about the hall, subduing all who tried to resist them, killing many. The main hall of the district headquarters was largely administrative, and the few armed officers were overwhelmed by the grim and shockingly silent Subjugglators who worked with eerie precision in the quiet. These were entirely new tactics from the clowns, operating without make-up, without making a show of themselves, and everyone had been caught by surprise. Between the main hall and the upper levels was an armoured checkpoint and the Subjugglators used it to their advantage, taking control and effectively sealing the upper floors of the building away along with all of the Legislacerators within.

The Juggler strode back and forth across the floor, occasionally consulting a comically oversized pocket watch and calling out timings. Apparently, the plan was being carried out according to a strict schedule. At an appointed time, two of his men assembled a camera tripod facing him, and another deposited a sinister silvery cylinder, which the Juggler stroked a loving hand over.  
“Boys,” he called out, “it's show time! Game faces, everyone.”  
As one the Subjugglators began applying makeup and masks, adopting a wide variety of unpleasant visages. The Juggler drew an oily white cloth across his face, coating his skin in a scrawl of paint, and applied thick kohl rings around his eyes and lips.

The camera was activated, and a video feed went out simultaneously to every news and media organisation in the city.

In their home, Karkat and Nepeta were finishing their evening meal together. Though things were not right between them, the weight of secrecy in the air had exhausted them both and led to an unspoken truce. Now the occasional smile flitted between them and their conversation, though muted, was friendly enough. Nepeta turned on their screen as they sat down for the evening together, and the news blared out on every channel. The video was the same everywhere, and every station was reporting the same shocking development- and they were all showing the same ranting clown face.

“-my children!” said the Juggler, they had caught him mid-sentence. “And what is to become of the city, when the officers of law! Justice! Can't even stop one little clown from telling you all about the joke?”  
Karkat leaned forwards suddenly, “what is this? Is this real?”  
“Yes, I think so,” Nepeta frowned and tried another channel. The same thing- breaking news about a Subjugglator attack on a district headquarters.  
“Here's the deal,” said the Juggler, continuing, “I now control this building, but oops! Not for long! I imagine the Chief Justifist is bearing down on me even now! But wait, wait, shh, listen- I have a surprise for you!”

The Juggler backed away from the camera and revealed the cylinder behind him. Both Karkat and Nepeta went rigid.

“You'll love this next one, I guarantee! It's a real gas!” The Juggler was suddenly consumed with a paroxysm of laughter at his own joke, “I'm going to melt this whole fucking place to the ground, and there's nothing you can do about it! You better be careful, not a good idea to wander in here, Chiefy!”  
“He's mad,” muttered Karkat.  
“No way,” hissed Nepeta, “this took some serious planning.”  
Karkat looked at her slowly, and just nodded in agreement.  
“But wait, I hear you cry!” The Juggler capered and crooned in delight, “hey Juggler, what's the deal here? Why are you doin' all this good work? Well citizens, I'm glad you asked!”

Karkat frowned, trying to count the numbers of clowns he could see milling about in the background. There were at least twenty of them nearby.

“The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll!” Said the Juggler suddenly, “hey guess what, here's a message for you! Listen friend, I like you. I like your style, you got grit! Moxie! Balls! I see big things in your future, big things! And I like the way you do just whatever the fuck you want! Hey listen, you and me might have had our differences,” he leaned back and laughed expansively, patting his belly, “but that's all behind us now, and I'm gonna show you that bygones are bygones.”  
“  
Listen,” said Karkat, “there's a thing I forgot in the office, I think I might have to-”  
“You're not seriously wandering off in the middle of the biggest story this sweep?”  
“Uh-”

“That's right! I'm gonna do you a big ole favour! Y'see Flaps, can I call ya Flaps? There's this Legislacerator chick who's been given the super special job of hunting you down. I know! Crazy! So I thought to myself, hey Juggler! Go ahead and waste her ass! That'll show 'em! And then, Flappy, everyone's gonna see. You and me, me and you, we're just the same.”

Karkat narrowed his eyes. This was all to make some insane point?

“I guess you could come over here, and try an' stop me? But hey, why would you do that? I mean, unless you wanted to show that you really love Legislacerators! I guess maybe you're a stand-up law-and-justice kind of a guy after all?” The Juggler patted the cylinder, “let's say... Midnight. Then it's.... poof! Hoo hoo!”

The camera went dead. Karkat sat back with a heavy, shocked exhalation of breath. The implications were flying at him one after another. The Juggler was no simple killer, he was planning on destroying the very thing the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll had come to represent in the city which was an incorruptible, higher justice. If he did not interfere, then it would be seen as a tacit approval of the Juggler's tactics, and a cynical move to rid himself of a potential thorn among the Legislacerators. If he were to attack then it would be to save them- the very people who he had vowed to be better then. The Legislacerators were the implacable enemies of the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll and what would it say if he risked his life to save any of their number? A logical, reasonable troll would not entertain the thought for a second. Karkat had the distinct and queasy feeling that he was dealing with someone who understood him, and understood exactly how to destroy him. The Juggler had effortlessly placed him in an impossible situation.

“What's going to happen?” Asked Nepeta softly, her eyes were like saucers.  
Karkat reached for words, working his jaw impotently, “I don't know. Do you-” he hesitated, “do you think it would change things if the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll did turn up? What would people say about him?”  
“I don't know,” she sighed, “maybe? I mean... why would he? The Juggler is an asshole, but at least he's taking down the Legislacerators. It's not like anyone likes them. Let 'em die, so what?”

Karkat was shocked, he had no idea Nepeta felt that way, but it was hardly an uncommon sentiment behind closed doors. The highblooded hierarchy operated with impunity and crushed any who would act against them, and the Legislacerators were their fist. If the Juggler was telling the truth, that there was a person in that organisation assigned to hunting him, then it made all the sense in the world to sit back and allow her to die. Everything in Karkat's upbringing, his education, his understanding of culture as a troll, told him to sit his ass down and watch the show.

Beside him Nepeta looked worried, “are you alright? You're pale. Do you need anything?”  
“No,”  
“Are you sure? I don't like seeing you like this Kar-”  
“I said no!”  
“Oh... okay...”

His fists were curled into tight balls, and shaking a little.

When the phone went Karkat nearly screamed. Nepeta jumped up to answer it, and listened for a moment.  
“Wait- slow down! What are- oh? I'll tell him, one moment,”  
Karkat looked up, frowning in confusion, and Nepeta held the receiver to her chest, biting her lip.  
“Karkat? It's Sollux, he says he has some trouble and needs your help?”  
“What?”  
“He says it's important and you have to drop everything you're doing and get over. He said you'd know what it was about.”  
Karkat practically jumped up. Sollux! He must have seen the news, of course, and he was giving Karkat the perfect reason to leave. He needed to talk to someone, and Nepeta couldn't know what was going through his mind.  
“I'm sorry, I have to go, I'll see what he wants, okay? Don't wait up!”  
Karkat was already at the door.

He didn't look back as he charged down the corridor. Behind him, Nepeta raised a hand, and as he went lowered it gently without speaking.

Karkat met with Sollux in their hideout, finding him already hard at work commandeering sensors and cameras from the city streets to provide an overview of the situation. He had nothing from inside the building though, and he was tracking the movements of a large Legislacerator grouping that was taking up station at a safe distance. It seemed that while the treat of the Subjugglator gas weapon was in play the Legislacerators were taking a wait-and-see approach.

“About fuckin' time you got here! There'th not long left!”  
“Sol...”  
Sollux turned as Karkat called his name quietly. They were alone on the platform suspended in space above the constant rushing noise of water through the city water pipe systems. Even with the constant noise in the background Sollux could hear something off in his friend's voice.  
“KK... you are going, right?”  
“Sol, I just- I don't know!”  
“You can't jutht ignore thith! You thtarted all of thith, it'th all happening becathe you made it happen!”  
“I never wanted this!”  
“You needed thith! You made thith! You wanted to thee if you could make a differenthe, and you did! It'th right there, waiting for you! You and I both know that no one elthe thtandth a chanth!”  
“If I let them go ahead with it, how much easier would it be?”  
“If you let them do thith... look, KK, you're my oldetht friend, I love you man, and you have to lithen when I tell you thomething. You can either be the guy who... who fuckin' doeth thomething about it when shit goeth down, or not. You can be the guy who trieth to thave people or the guy who let'th them die. Now which are you going to be? Cauthe I know who I thought you were.”

Karkat looked down, and stared at his hands. When they had started this they were full of ideas and promises, thoughts about who they would be and what they would do. Now it came to th e moment that the choices were no longer so easy to make, and Karkat knew he was feeling sick inside because for a moment he had really considered taking the easy path. He knew he would never have forgiven himself for doing that.

Karkat looked up slowly and met Sollux's gaze. “I'll need to get there fast...”  
“You mean, you're going to try... it?”  
“Reckon it's ready?”  
“It better be. Ath far ath I can tell, it'th all thet.”  
Karkat grinned, “I'll get changed, set it up.”

Inside the besieged headquarters the Juggler had found a public-address microphone on the front desk and his voice boomed out over every floor of the building as he explained the situation.  
“Lovely people! Listen up! You might die here tonight. Yes, you really might be about to die. I want you to think about that a while. Take y'time,” he lounged languidly against the front desk and winked at one of his men.

“You have loved ones? People you know, people you love, people who love you. Hey, people you hate too. People who come and go every day, making up part of your lives. Well imagine all of those people waking up tomorrow, and they all have a hole in their lives. It's a hole shaped like you, because you made a choice and you decided to die, here, tonight.”

The Juggler stood up and stared up at the ceiling. It seemed as if he was staring through brick and concrete, seeking out the beating hearts of all the people trapped above.

“And why? Why did you do that to them? Do you know? Do they? Well let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, it doesn't have to be that way. Maybe tomorrow you wake up, and it turns out everything was fine, huh? I'd be happy with that. It'd fill my fuckin' heart with glee, knowin' I was one merciful type of a motherfucker when it came down to it. That'd be something I could take with me. That's some heart warming shit right there. Listen up.” He licked his lips with a dry rasp, “bring her to me. You know the one I want, you been watchin' the fuckin' TV. Bring her down, and that's you out of this whole mess. You're done. I don't want you! So just, bring her to me, and we'll walk away. That's all.” He set the mike down.

One of his men came up to him and gave a respectful nod.  
“How long you want to give 'em?”  
“Oh, not long. I mean, we're gonna fuckin' kill 'em all anyway, right?”

Above them, the men of the Legislacerator corps were looking at one another, some were in hushed discussions in corners, some were walking off to be alone. All of them were wrestling with the quandary that the Juggler had placed them in. Commissioner Pyrope wasn't exactly well loved, she had terminated her entire last squad, but then she was still their commissioner. This was not supposed to happen- no one challenged Law and Justice. No one would be so bold as to walk straight into a district headquarters and issue demands- and yet that had happened and now everyone was going to die. The logic of the situation was simple. If they sent Pyrope to die, then they stood a chance. The building couldn't be held for long against the forces that the Chief Justifist was no doubt bringing to bear; in fact it could be said that sacrificing Pyrope was necessary to buy them the time they needed. It would make her a hero in fact. So went the grim logical progression through the minds of those officers.

The door to Commissioner Pyrope's office creaked open slowly, no one had knocked. A figure in bulky Legislacerator armour stood outlined against the darkness, he was no doubt squinting into the inky black of Pyrope's office, which was all that saved her. The Legislacerator raised his weapon warily just as the commissioner's cane flashed down out of the shadows and cracked against his wrist with a ferocious snap. The man screamed and dropped to his knees instantly, and Terezi kicked him over, leaping over the prone form to run for it. She could hear them all around her- footsteps, shuffling and uncertain perhaps but all of them coming her way. The men didn't like what they were thinking of doing, but they had made their choice. Pyrope choked for breath and collided with a wall, groping her way along until she came to a stairwell. She paused for a moment, thinking. Behind her, she heard a soft voice calling her name. It was her secretary, a good girl. Young, everything ahead of her. Commissioner Pyrope stared blindly ahead of her and tilted her head up, sightlessly regarding the stairs up to the roof level. She bit back a sob of frustration and turned away, moving to the other stairway leading down toward the main hall.

Below, all was silent. The Juggler was watching his pocket watch with something like amusement across his face, and they all heard it at once- a gentle but insistent tapping getting closer. Commissioner Pyrope made her way down the long staircase toward the checkpoint that the Subjugglators had captured. Around her, Legislacerators backed up against walls and held their breath. None of them reached out to her or reasoned with her to stop, none could bear to look at her. Despite their best efforts she could hear them around her, breathing low and fast. Afraid.

“I'm here,” called out Pyrope, approaching the checkpoint, “you want me you son of a bitch, you got me! I'm here! Come on!”  
She rapped her cane against the floor tiles sharply and the checkpoint doors opened to admit her into the main hall where the Juggler waited patiently for her. He turned and regarded the commissioner with great amusement and a wry smile.  
“Hello... commissioner,” he intoned mockingly.  
“Nice to see you,” she replied tartly.  
“Well it's a lovely evening. Won't you come join us?”  
“Delighted.”

Pyrope stepped forward and a Subjugglator reached out to seize her arm. She hissed and yanked it out of his grip, swinging wildly with the cane. The Juggler seemed to like that.

“Bring her. Get the camera, I want to... I want to preserve this fine moment for the ages. This is so important to me.”

Across the hall someone called out from one of the high windows, “Movement! Someone coming.”  
Everyone in the hall stooped what they were doing, there was a moment of silence and tension in the air.  
“So what is it?” Asked the Juggler, “who's joining the party?”  
“Legislacerators,” his man replied, “a main force, advancing with tactical wagons and, ah, about fifty men.”  
The Juggler shook his head. “I can't say I'm surprised. But. I guess. I'm a little disappointed? I really thought he would come you know.” He smacked his lips wetly and motioned for the camera to be turned on. “I guess it doesn't matter, I planned for this anyway.”  
“Wait!”

The Juggler looked over, quizzically.

“Something else, I can't- I can't see-”

The Chief Justifist himself was in charge of the operation. His men marched relentlessly on to the district headquarters, with cars bringing up the flanks and a central force of tactical wagons. He was in the central vehicle, barking orders occasionally into his headset and watching their progress on multiple screens.  
“Get ready, uw-we're goin' in.”  
“Ah, sir?” His adjutant, sitting next to the driver, turned to face him, “the men inside?”  
“All swore an oath,” replied Ampora curtly, “as did uw-we all.”  
“Understood sir. We're coming up on the operational radius and- wait-”

The adjutant tilted his head, listening, and frowned. Ampora looked up, he heard it too. Ampora wound down his window and looked out in confusion, craning his neck. Behind him, the street  lights which blazed down the deserted length of the main road that had been cleared for the operation began to wink out, first individually and then in blocks, leaving the road behind them in pitch darkness. But it was the noise that had alerted them all. Something was coming.

It was like a throaty roar of wind through a canyon. It was definitely nothing that the Legislacerators were fielding, and the sound was rising. An enormous engine hammered and whirled, sucking in great gouts of air through a turbine. Still, they saw nothing in the inky dark behind them. The men were becoming nervous now, some of them kept glancing back. One of them shouted and pointed, and Ampora followed his shaking finger. In the distance, but approaching fast, was a faint, flickering glow.

“Uw-what the fuck is that?” Ampora whispered.

Sitting in an armoured shell beneath layer after layer of matte black plating, Karkat grinned mirthlessly and pulled on a toggle control. The turbine whined alarmingly as high-grade aviation fuel was forced violently into the chambers of the engine's mighty heart. The orange exhaust glow that trailed him flared into vivid brilliance as the burners kicked in and Karkat involuntarily let out a yell as pure adrenaline blasted through his veins.

Storming out of the darkness a great squat black shape, bulky-armoured and hunkered low like an angry crab, racing ahead on massive wheels that churned over the concrete road surface with a titanic roar, the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll charged. The vehicle seemed to explode out of the blackness, taking to the air on a plume of rocket exhaust and leaping over the mobile barricade of the Legislacerator forces with nimble ease. It hit the ground and shattered the road under it, not stopping for an instant. The stunned Legislacerators could only watch in shock and awe as they were literally superseded by a force greater and more terrible then their own.

Inside the hall, the lookout screamed and dived away from the window. The Juggler just started laughing in joy, clapping his hands. The camera was on him, he had been about to make another of his pronouncements, when the wall of the main hall facing out onto the city exploded and a terrifying squat black machine barrelled in. Three or four of the clowns were crushed and killed instantly as it skidded to a halt and a hatch opened in the armour and slid back, to reveal the dread shape of the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll rising out of the back of the machine.

“Get this,” hissed the Juggler to his cameraman, waving frantically, “get it all!”

Pyrope struggled out of the grip of the Subjugglator holding her and fell over, scrabbling around for her cane. The noise had been deafening, the air was filled with acrid brick dust and the scent of blood, she felt more blind then ever.

The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll leaped down into a mass of Subjugglators who ran to meet him and met them with brutal efficiency. He ducked under a clumsy blow and lashed a backhanded chop to the ribs, breaking them, and the man went down. Another tried to level a weapon on him and screamed as he received a thrown miniature sickle to the face, a third dropped like a sack of sand when the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll slammed a boot into his midsection. More Subjugglators approached, more warily, but the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll hurled a handful of black beads at the ground which exploded into opaque smoke. The group was instantly enveloped in it, and they did not emerge again. When the cloud parted the floor was covered in still bodies, and there was no sign of the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll.

The Subjugglators were rattled, and their numbers were considerably thinned. All was silent in the hall, except for the relentless soft electronic whirr of the camera.

The Juggler strode out into the middle of the hall, an unpleasant looking pocketknife in hand, and looked around testily. The upper levels of the hall were a mass of balconies and galleries, there were pillars reaching from floor to ceiling and any number of hiding places.  
“What's wrong, Flaps?” He shouted out, “feelin' shy, now it's the main event?”

Somewhere, a Subjugglator cried out and went silent.  
“Huh, not so shy,” mused the Juggler. “C'mon Flaps, let's get to it. You an' me, let's have, a good!  Old fashioned! Throw-down!”

By now he was performing as much for the camera as anything, and he loved it. Then there was a harsh electrical crack and all the lights went out. Somewhere in the darkness, someone screamed.

“Very clever, Flaps! I like your style! I like your m-m-moxie!” The Juggler hooted with laughter, “how many of my guys are even left now? I, I dunno I can't even count! Did I just hear someone get knocked out then? This is fuckin' beautiful, you're really out-doing yourself here Flaps!”  
“Boss,” muttered the cameraman, “those Legislacerators, they're still comin', don't you think we should... you know...”  
“What? Run? This is the main event! This is the big show, there ain't nothin' better happening in all this fuckin' miserable-ass city!” He raised his voice, shouting to the roof-beams, “you hear me, Flaps? You and me, we're having it out! The party's starting, and where's my guest of honour, you gonna show up?”

“I'm already here.”  
He was so close, the Juggler practically felt breath on his ear. With an ear-splitting screech he lashed out with the knife, only to see the blade turned aside and broken easily by the large, reverse-pointed serrations on the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll's forearm. The black figure gripped his wrist and aimed a punch at the Juggler's inner elbow, eliciting a scream of pain from the clown.

The camera panned and followed the two of them as they fought across the ruined hall amid the smoke and the muck and the blood. The Juggler was fast, and he fought with the savage ferocity of one beyond caring. In contrast the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll was far more controlled and methodical as he aimed precise blows at any vulnerability. The two fighters face to face were a good match for each other, as they met blow for blow.

Nepeta was watching the fight as it was being broadcast live. It had barely been happening for more then a minute, and the outside camera news teams were showing the Legislacerators cautiously but inexorably approaching outside. While that gas bomb was still in play they were unwilling to rush in and, it was becoming increasingly clear, they were aware that the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll might well be doing their task for them. He was magnificent in action, perfectly balanced and expressive in his fighting. To her eye, she could see every thought and intention behind the blows being landed, and she sat up and frowned. Looking closer, she could see that the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll was definitely favouring one side. It was very subtle, but she could tell. It was, in fact, the place where she had seen Karkat's injury before. She touched a fingertip to her lips thoughtfully, and stared. He was about the right height, give or take. And he had the same air of barely-contained anger about him. It was ridiculous but she couldn't quite shake the notion.

Karkat landed a vicious right hook on the tip of the clown's jaw that snapped his head around hard with a sickening retort, and in return the Juggler caught him in the solar plexus with an elbow hard enough to make his armour plates flex. The Juggler had speed, reach and the terrifying strength of a highblood, but Karkat was simply the better fighter and overmatched him at last with a resounding double strike from outstretched fingers to the coracoid process of the Juggler's left shoulder that made him gasp in pain followed up with a brutal head-butt. The Juggler collapsed to the floor and held up a hand, weakly.  
“Wait- w-wait stop stop,”  
“Give it up!” Roared Karkat, “this is over!”  
The Juggler fumbled in his pocket and fumbled a pair of spectacles onto his face, “y-you wouldn't,” he gasped, “hit a guy with glasses?”  
Karkat straightened up, and glanced around. He saw the camera rolling on him, and the man running it, and glared. “Run away,” he intoned, “don't stop.”  
The cameraman did.

The entire city was watching as Karkat stood over the fallen groaning figure of the Juggler. The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll reached down and seized the clown by the lapels, hauling him upright roughly.  
“Gonna kill me now?” Croaked the Juggler, “c'mon, law man, do it. Your audience is waiting for the punchline-” he gestured toward the camera and grinned.  
Karkat grinned, “do I look like a Legislacerator?”  
“You might as well have a badge... face it Flaps, you're not fighting anything, you're just another part of the machine,” the Juggler grinned horribly, “that's why I win.”  
“No. I'm not like them. And I'm not like you either.”  
“I don't believe you.”  
“That's why you'll never win,” Karkat pulled him closer, but raised his voice and made sure the camera caught every word, “I don't care what you believe or what the Legislacerators say. I don't need you to believe. I am Justice.”  
“You're nothing,” croaked the Juggler.  
“When someone like you comes along, when the Legislacerators let crime go unpunished, when the strong prey on the weak,” Karkat whispered, “look up. I'll be there.”  
The Juggler stared into his eyes and paled, finally going quiet. Karkat dropped him heavily and, spinning on a heel, destroyed the camera with a kick.

Nepeta screamed and bounced on her seat, there were tears in her eyes and she cried out in joy. She cocked her head on one side suddenly and listened- faintly, but spread all around, she heard other voices shout out like hers- carried on the wind, or vibrating through the walls, coming from the streets and homes, rising.  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE RETURN OF THE FLYING SQUEAK-BEAST TROLL

“Hello again, commissioner.”  
He always managed to find some new edge of mockery to add to her title. He sat bolt upright, watching her.  
“I was told you wanted to talk.”  
“That's true, that's very true, I think we have a lot to discuss. In fact, as I was sitting here- in my cell- thinking, a whole new truth came to my mind, a new way of looking at our little problem.”  
“We,” she emphasised the word, “don't have a problem.”  
“That's it! That's exactly my point. You don't see it, but I see. This thing has two sides.”  
He placed his palms flat one atop the other, and see-sawed them in the air over and over.  
“Two sides,” he continued, “there's my side and there's your side. But it's all the same problem.”  
“All right,” she sighed, “I'll bite. What is this problem?”

Down below the high, thrusting tower of the Legislacerator district headquarters, a lone shape skulked through an adjoining back alley. The shadowy figure crept up to the hulking wall of the building and pulled something like a ragged sheet of paper from inside a filthy long coat. They held it up against the brickwork, and a combination of dirt and moisture held it in place. Then they produced a spray-paint can and shook it nervously. A few quick sprays of black paint against the simple paper template, and they were done. The paper was yanked down and hidden again, and the figure departed into the darkness. Left behind, neatly drying on the wall of the Legislacerator district headquarters, was a crude silhouette. To a forgiving eye, it could almost have looked like the rough outline of a flying squeak-beast, serrated wings outstretched threateningly. More of them were appearing all the time.

“The problem,” he licked his dry lips hungrily, “is that he's changed everything.”  
“I don't quite see that.”  
He burst out laughing at the choice of metaphor, pointing and waving merrily at her blind eyes. She waited patiently for him to finish.  
“That's a good one, commish! You'll make it to the stage, yet!”  
“Are you quite done with all this?”  
“Done? How can I be done. Is he done? He's out there, right now. He's not done.”  
“There have been no sightings since you got your sorry ass kicked.”  
“Oh-h-h he's out there. And things are different now. See, there used to be this... order to things. There was a way things are just supposed to go!” His voice was rising now, dangerously, and she clutched at her cane warily, “and he went and fucked that all up! Now what do we have? Chaos! Up is down, left is right, and why? Because just one man can mess things up and what do you do about it?”  
She grinned slowly, she was relishing her words, “people are starting to say he's just an urban legend or something.”

A Subjugglator had walked down the lamp-lit street with a merry swagger, he had been following some pretty young thing he had taken a shine to. It was the same story that had played out a thousand times before, and it was a known fact that the Grand Highblood still considered them to be generally under his protection despite a few administrative hiccups. No one would say anything when he had his fun. The female stepped nervously, increasing her speed, and the Subjugglator caught up to her pace with ease.  
“Hey-y-y-y there, sweet thing,” the tall, rangy Subjugglator had a switch-knife and flicked it open with a menacing click, “how's about you give me a nice big smile?”

The girl turned, suddenly she seemed a lot less frightened. In fact, she was already smiling.  
“Sorry, not interested.”  
The Subjugglator paused, drawing himself up and putting on a terrifying rictus-smile. Still she just grinned sweetly up at him.  
“Well, I never asked if you was interested, honey,”

From behind him came a harsh, guttural voice, “she said no.”  
The Subjugglator turned, and realised he was surrounded. They had come out of alleyways, out of dark passages, from behind fences and cars. They were dressed in a motley assortment of outfits cobbled together and obviously home-made out of whatever could be found, but there was a theme to them. They were all in black, with long cloaks of tarpaulin and canvas, whatever could be painted black.  
“The... the fuck?” He tried to back away and was nudged in the spine by a baseball bat- more of them behind him, “the fuck is this, anyway?”  
“This?” One of the figures stepped forward. He was carrying a heavy sledgehammer, “this is the wrong neighbourhood. Mother... fucker...”

She turned away from him and felt her way to the cell door by running her fingertips along the wall. She was the only one who ever turned her back on him, it made no difference to her.  
“You're crazy.”  
“Crazy? I'm just committed to a motherfuckin' belief system, is all! You think a guy who dressed up like a flying squeak-beast is going to save you? You're the crazy one!”  
She pulled the cell door closed after her with a loud smack of the lock jamming home, and still the voice of the Juggler echoed after her down the hallway.  
“You're crazy, commissioner! I'm in here, I see things clearly! You're the crazy one! You're the crazy one here!”

One of her Legislacerators met the commissioner as she reached the top of the staircase which led to the block of isolation cells, and announced his presence with a discreet cough. She pulled up short and inclined her head up.  
“Yes?”  
“Commissioner Pyrope. The Chief Justifist has arrived, and is waiting in your office for your meeting.”  
“Ah. I... yes. I'll be right up.”

Her office was a tribute to coping strategy. There were strict paths and clear spaces between sparse objects of furniture which were specifically placed. A person who had carefully memorised the layout of the room could move from desk to file cabinet to computer to water cooler all without ever once bumping into an untoward corner or disturbing a pile of papers even if they were as blind as the commissioner. Chief Justifist Ampora sat pensively in the high-backed leather upholstered chair that sat to the front and left of the commissioner's desk. When she came into the office unannounced she stepped daintily past him and sat down behind her desk. She steepled her fingers and stared fixedly straight ahead. She had placed the chair deliberately so that when she sat there she would not seem to be staring directly at her guests, it always seemed so impolite.  
“Chief,” she said respectfully.  
“Ah, Pyrope. About time, I uw-was uw-waiting.”  
“I'm sorry for detaining you, Chief.”  
“It doesn't matter now. I uw-want to know uw-what's happening on the Juggler case.”  
“Happening?”  
“Uw-when are you going to execute the fucker!” Ampora slammed his fist onto the arm of his chair with a creak. Pyrope very studiously did not react.  
“I'm not sure what you mean, Chief. The trial hasn't begun yet, and the prisoner can't be executed until His Honourable Tyranny has pronounced the guilt.”  
“There's no time for that!” Ampora's voice was dangerously close to a shriek, “you don't know uw-what kind of pressure I'm under!”  
“I believe that you are asking me to subvert due process, Chief.”  
“I'm asking you to do your fuckin' job and keep the peace!”  
“The Empress' Peace is the proper imposition of law and justice, and-”  
“Don't you dare!”  
Pyrope went quiet, she knew she had taken a step too far over a line.  
“I uw-want the Juggler dead. Not on trial, not in prison, dead! There is to be no announcement and no paperwork. Just make that piece of shit vanish, am I clear?”  
“Yes... chief. Quite clear.”

Ampora stalked out of her office without another word, leaving Pyrope alone. She just sat there, in quiet contemplation, for a time. When she was satisfied that Ampora was long since escorted from the building and her secretary was otherwise occupied- she could hear the soft footsteps moving down the carpeted corridor away from her office- she stood up stiffly and made her way to the great bay window that dominated the back wall. The curtains were never drawn- there was little point. She pulled the windows open and stepped out onto her balcony. The job was stressful enough, and so nobody could blame her for adopting a vice or two. In fact it was practically expected, as one rose up the ranks. Her vice was the occasional cigarette, out here in the open. She pulled one out of the packet with her lips and lit it.

“Ampora wants the Juggler dead, and I'm finding myself hard pressed to find a reason not to give him what he wants,” she said harshly. There was, of course, no answer.

Pyrope leant forwards, her elbows on the stone balustrade surrounding the balcony.   
“It's not like bringing him to trial will change anything, His Honourable Tyranny will probably rip his laughing shit-eating head clean off anyway. What difference does it make if he dies now or at trial?”

She turned around, pressing the comforting cool of the stone rail against the small of her back, and inhaled deeply. She could smell the waft of cigarette smoke, and the fresh damp pre-dawn air, and something else like gunpowder and burned metal.

“That doesn't make it right,”  
“Says who?” She tensed, slightly, but didn't move.  
“Justice.”  
“There's no such thing any more.”  
“There has to be. And if there isn't, we have to make it.”  
“I don't know what I can do about any of this. I'm just a commissioner.”  
“Ampora doesn't want the Juggler on trial, because he's an embarrassment to the Grand Highblood.”  
“So what?”  
“So the only way is to force his hand. Make the trial impossible to avoid.”  
“How do we make that happen?”  
“Leave that to me. Just be ready.”  
“How do I even know I can-”

Pyrope hesitated, she was suddenly acutely aware that she was alone. There had been barely a whisper of sound, something like great wings opening, catching the air, then nothing.

“How do I know I can trust you,” she groaned. She stubbed out her cigarette fitfully.


	10. Chapter 10

Beneath the city, through the winding, twisting maze of waterways which fed and nourished the great edifices above, a black shape flickered and floated. Karkat was in his element, fed and nourished by the very darkness itself. He knew the ways now without even checking his digital map, he almost fancied that he could sense every turn and deviation as it approached. He swung on monofilament wires that whined plaintively through the electric winching mechanisms at his hips, he fluttered on wings of electro-active fiber that spread into the great scalloped limbs of a flying squeakbeast behind him. The pipes and ducts of the water system were themselves contained in large vaulting caverns and galleries, most of them only poorly mapped by the city. When Karkat arrived at the great open space of his lair and touched down on the concrete platform where he took repose, Sollux span around with a start and had to stifle a yell of fear.  
  
“Kuh! KK! Where did you come from?”  
Karkat grinned at him as he walked over to where Sollux had been working away at the computer- itself a ramshackle collection of esoteric and rare hardware that he had put together himself.  
“Did you miss me?”  
“That'th fucking freaky, don't thneak up on me like that!”  
“I wasn't. Didn't you pick me up on the sensors?”  
Sollux beamed with pride and shook his head. “Nope! Not a thighn. The thtealth coating theemth to be perfect.”  
“Excellent. I have a feeling I'm going to need it.”  
  
Karkat passed Sollux and went to the large line of metal cabinets that served as their armoury. He pressed the secret catches on his armour and removed the close-fitting cowl from his head with a sigh, shaking out his unruly hair. As he began divesting himself of the outfit carefully, Sollux wandered over to him to help.  
“Kar, what are you planning?”  
“It's the Juggler,” Karkat muttered harshly, “someone high up wants him dead.”  
“You mean Ampora?”  
“Him too, but there's more to it then that. Someone's pressing Ampora, and he's pressing Terezi. I don't know how long she can hold out.”  
“You mean Commissioner Pyrope.”  
“Yes,”  
“Lithen, we've been through thith before...”  
Karkat groaned, “then why bring it up?”  
“Becauthe we're not done! When you went there to thtop the Juggler I wath right behind you. I thupported you one hundred perthent, remember? You had to thtop that. But you did it! You won! Why do you care if the Juggler dieth in lockup or in court? One way or another, it'th gonna happen!”  
“You've seen the news. People have started to talk, for once.”  
“Yeth, crazy people,”  
“At first, but more and more people now. The ordinary people are starting to ask for real justice.”  
“They won't get it,”  
“They will when there is no choice any more. Criminals have to be dealt with properly, there have to be rules.”  
“What doeth thith have to do with the Juggler?”  
“He's a symbol. He represents everything that's rotten and... insane... about this society. If they can just kill him then the people will forget- they will make sure that the people forget- and then it's all for nothing. The next Juggler will come along and it'll be the same as it ever was. This time is going to be different, it has to be! This time, crime will be dealt with by the law. It won't matter what connections he has, or how powerful his friends are. The people will see justice. Then, they won't forget.”  
“Thometimeth I think you're the mad one.”  
Karkat smirked and clapped him on the shoulder, “want to quit?”  
“Do you?”  
“No.”  
“Then no. I don't.”  
“Good man.”  
  
Sollux got back to work while Karkat grabbed something to eat. Both of them were spending more and more time down here, in the lair, and gradually they had brought more home comforts with them. A shower cubicle had been absolutely necessary, considering the sweat and grime that Karkat picked up on his nightly rounds. There was no room or consideration for such luxuries as privacy and so Karkat stripped off readily, tossed the black underthings that he wore beneath the armour and its flexible webbing into the laundry, and ran the water over himself with a delighted sigh. The cubicle was a simple box of glass with a hose fitting that was siphoned directly from the city's drinking water supply and heated by a small electric boiler. Through the glass walls Karkat could see out in all directions, to the edge of the platform high up in the vast black hall, and beyond the edge there was nothing for the floodlights they used to illuminate. When he approached the platform from the darkness it looked like a bright oasis in a huge echoing darkness, but from this side it was like being in a large draughty room that simply happened to have solid black walls. The black out there beyond the platform was so dense, so complete, that the illusion of solidity was perfect. Karkat shook his head and ran his hands through his sodden hair.  
  
Karkat towelled himself off and slung on a simple cotton jogging outfit, and made himself a sandwich from the simple supplies that they maintained. Sollux was deeply absorbed in what he was doing, the screen reflected brilliantly off his glasses and made his expression opaque. Not for the first time Karkat found himself wondering why he inspired such undying loyalty from his friend, no matter how deep their danger became. He walked up behind Sollux and touched his shoulder.  
“What do you have?”  
“Newth reportth. More of those thymbolth are appearing everywhere.”  
Sollux tapped the screen, which showed a picture of a crudely scrawled flying squeak-beast silhouette on a wall.  
“You know,” Karkat mused, “it's not a bad image. Maybe we should use it.”  
“What, like, carry round a flag?”  
“No, I mean,” Karkat wasn't sure what he meant, he made grasping motions with his fingers, “that image, that design. Why shouldn't the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll have a symbol?”  
“Where would you put it?”  
Karkat drew his hands across the middle of his chest, describing a rough square, “right here.”  
Sollux snorted, “just giveth them thomething to aim at.”  
“So put extra armouring underneath it.”  
“You're therious?”  
Karkat winked at him and patted his shoulder, “always.”  
  
Nepeta was waiting when Karkat finally got home. He had told her something about needing to stay late with an urgent caseload of work, and she hadn't questioned him. Over time it was getting harder to keep track of the little lies and stories. Karkat closed the door behind him and smiled weakly at her, sat on the couch in their living room. She casually switched off the news and nodded back at him.  
  
Things had not been right between them, and it wasn't getting better. Karkat found himself needing the suit, and the dark, more and more just so that he could focus on something other then the intractable problem of his moirail. He couldn't just avoid her, though. For one thing, he was missing her terribly.  
“How are you?”  
“I'm fine,” she shrugged and patted the space next to her on the couch. Karkat sank down into it gratefully and put an arm around her.  
“I'm sorry for being out so late,”  
“I know, it's okay.”  
  
Nepeta glanced at her nails vaguely, and tried to get comfortable. Karkat's body felt uncommonly hard when she rested against him. She had thought he was tensing up when she had first noticed it, but the hardness was pure muscle. She stroked her hand further down, over the place where he had been wounded. The medicines had worked well, and now he had only a light gray scar there. She felt him tense slightly when she touched the scar.  
“Does it hurt?”  
“No,” Karkat reached for the controls and turned the television to the news, hoping for some excuse to change the subject.  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
Karkat looked at her, and she could see the pain in his eyes. She knew he wanted to tell her something and she wanted to hear it from him.  
“Nepeta, I...” he trailed off.  
“If someone hurt you... it's all right, you're better now. It doesn't make you any less to me.”  
“I- I know, I know that,”  
Nepeta licked her lips, and chose her next words carefully, “who was it that patched you up?”  
“Sollux,” Karkat answered tersely.  
“Did anyone see your...?”  
Karkat closed his eyes. It was the one unmentionable taboo between them- the colour of his blood. The one subject that, after endless arguing, she accepted he would not talk about.  
“My blood?”  
“Mm.”  
“Um. No, no.”  
“Karkat?”  
“Yes?”  
“Are you in trouble?”  
 He looked at her directly, and the expression he saw on her face melted him inside, and made his throat close up.  
“I...”  
“Don't lie to me. Please tell me anything, just don't lie.”  
  
Karkat bit down on his lip and closed his eyes. He had half-expected Equius to put the pieces together and tell Nepeta everything. The fact that she had heard nothing from her own moirail meant that he either didn't realise, or he knew that telling Nepeta would put her at risk. That knowledge restrained him. And yet, he could not go on this way, knowing that Nepeta was hurting like this.   
“I'm... involved in something. Something important.”  
“Is that why you got hurt?”  
Karkat hesitated, then nodded stiffly.  
  
The atmosphere seemed to change immediately. Just by acknowledging that small amount to her defused the tension that had existed between them. Suddenly Nepeta felt hope that she might reach her matesprit, and Karkat knew his feelings for Nepeta as though experiencing them for the first time all over again. They embraced wordlessly, and kissed. Karkat wanted to say more, he wanted to tell her everything and spill his heart to her, but she placed a finger on his lips. Silently she stood up and tugged him after her, towards the recuperacoon. They would reconcile first, and the time for talking would come later.  
  
As the liquid of the recuperacoon closed over their naked bodies, hands met hands and legs intertwined, and they drew into each other. Nepeta marveled at Karkat's physique again, the change in him recently had been astonishing. She decided not to question some things too closely, and to enjoy her matesprit in all that he could give to her. Their lovemaking was intense and revelatory. They had missed each other, and missed the closeness. Their cravings found satisfaction in each other and afterward they floated together in happiness.  
  
On the table beside the recupercoon, under the lamp, there glittered and twinkled an expensive neclace studded with pearls and rubies. It was Nepeta's new favourite, and until very recently it had belonged to a wealthy highblooded heiress until the Purrbeast Troll had stolen it from under the collective noses of a highly trained and well-paid private security outfit in a daring burglary. As much as she had missed Karkat while he had been spending longer and longer hours at his work, she had put the extra time to good use.


	11. Chapter 11

Karkat had taken to brooding. The communication link in the cowl of his costume gave him a constant link to Sollux, which also meant that Sollux could route through whatever transmissions Karkat wished to eavesdrop upon. He had developed a habit of sitting motionless in some high, inaccessible place, just listening to the radio chatter in the city. Karkat was perched on the stone head of an elaborate and massive gargoyle high above the streets. He had been there for over an hour.  
  
“Tho,” Sollux interjected over the radio stream, “thinking of coming down yet? Or thtill thulking?”  
“I'm not sulking,” Karkat growled.   
“Of courthe. But let'th jutht thay that, to an inexthperienthed and untrained eye, what you are doing right now might well be mithtaken for thulking, you know.”  
“I'm listening.”  
“If you're trying to find thomething thpecific, I can help.”  
“I don't know what I'm listening out for,” Karkat admitted with a sigh, “I'll know when I hear it.”  
  
The night had been quiet, a lot quieter then was usual. The spray-painted signs were appearing in more and more neighbourhoods, and where the signs went up it was becoming known that troublemakers would find themselves very quickly on the receiving end of some rough justice. The Legislacerators were powerless to stop it, as soon as they tore down an offending piece of street art two more sprang up. In fact, they very quickly came to the conclusion that the only permanent solution was to start tearing down buildings but even they couldn't demolish half the city.  
  
Despite the successes that his campaigning was bringing, Karkat was not satisfied. The Juggler remained in Legislacerator headquarters under lock and key but he was no closer to a trial and until that took place the law was delayed. Justice was delayed. This state of affairs could not last- soon enough Ampora would finally lose patience, or else someone too heavy to be brushed off would lean on him- and he would go in and do the job himself. That would be the end of Terezi, of course, and Karkat had no intention of seeing the one decent officer of the law in the entire city go to the wall on his account. Not for the first time Karkat mused on how different things would have been if he had killed The Juggler outright when he had the chance.  
  
“Sol,” he began, “I'm done here.”  
“Finally!”  
“I'm going to swing round for another patrol then come in. Give me a route back through the Eastern quarter.”  
“Thure thing, you'll come into the water thythtem through the thirtieth-thtreet thub-thtation.”  
Sollux had a complete grasp of the subterranean network of pipes and walkways beneath the city now, and could map out a new route home for him every night if necessary. There would be no tracks to follow, no set routine for his enemies to pick up on.  
  
Karkat straightened up and sighted his wire pistol on the building opposite. He was about to fire off a line when he stiffened- an excited babble was coming through the Legislacerator radio band and he paused to listen. Units were being called out from all sections to attend a robbery in progress. A silent alarm had been tripped at an Imperial repository where various treasures belonging to her most imperial majesty were stored for the delectation and personal enjoyment of the carefully selected elite of the Highbloods. This was no simple break-in, such a building was heavily guarded at all times and had the most imposing locks and security measures that could be devised. Karkat already had a suspicion forming in his mind when an excited voice over the radio advised that a black-clad figure had been sighted at the site matching the description of the noted criminal known as the Purrbeast Troll. Karkat had seen neither sight or rumor of the mysterious thief since they had escaped from the hive of the Subjugglators, although that time he had been in his normal guise as notable philtrollthropist Karkat Vantas. This time, he would be the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll and he would get some answers.  
  
“Sol, are you hearing this?”  
“Yeah, I know,”  
“I'm going to check it out.”  
“What? Why?”  
“Because I want to know who's side this Purrbeast Troll is really on.”  
“She thealth shit. I'm guessing it's not your thide.”  
“She saved my life,”  
“Oh, tho that'th it. Going to repay the favour?”  
“Well, it would only be fair.”  
“Kar, lithen, if you're going to do thith you have to be careful. You know what you're getting into here?”  
Karkar stared ahead into the darkening night, thinking.  
“Sol,”  
“Yeah?”  
“If we're going to get anywhere in this, we're going to have to get the attention of the Highbloods, right? Well I'm betting the Purrbeast Troll knows all about them.”  
“You mean she knowth who to thteal from.”  
“That means she knows where the real power is. I want what she knows.”  
“You realithe that you're jutht making exthcutheth now. If you want to do it, then do it.”  
“Thanks for all the moral support.”  
“I'm jutht being a realitht!”  
Karkat grinned, “you're the best, Sol.”  
“The very betht.”  
  
Karkat launched off into the night on the end of an expander wire that screamed into the winching mechanism of his wire pistol. Sol was right- when his motivations were questioned he had smoothly slipped from giving one good reason after another why he should investigate the mysterious thief, but in the end he just felt a need, in his gut, to find her. Sollux always saw straight through him, that was why Karkat valued his counsel above all. He flexed his fingers, activating pickups in the armoured gloves that signalled the great scalloped wings of his cape to unfurl and catch the air.  
  
Nepeta swarmed along a wood panelled ceiling as easily as she might have walked along the floor, gripping into the smallest finger-holds and crevices, the clawtips of her gloved fingers found the slightest purchase to support her lithe weight. She had got in through an underground entrance which was supposed to be a secret, and breached three levels of security doors without so much as breaking a sweat. She had enjoyed lifting baubles and trinkets from the undeserving, but tonight she wanted more. The excitement coursing through her body was already rewarding her deeply for the danger and risk, making it all worthwhile. The repository was a gaudily excessive concrete paean to wealth and fabulously bad taste. The exterior was all fluted columns and carved statuary friezes, sneering at the massed trolls of the city who could look but could never hope to touch the glories within. The windows were nothing of the sort, just blocks of opaque crystal there for the look of the thing more then any function. No one on the outside was ever allowed to see within, and no one on the inside had any interest in seeing anything out there. It was a glorious and gaudy fortress, and she wasn't leaving without plundering something good.  
  
She crawled around an electrified strip of metal that formed a ring set into the walls and floors of the corridor, before dodging around the protruding eye of a camera skilfully. She was an inky shadow sliding across surfaces and hugging corners, indefatigable and unseen. She felt triumphant with every additional victory over some trap, some lock, some deadfall in her path. She had no idea that a gas-sensor in the antechamber she had first skulked through had picked up the slight, almost imperceptible trace of her breath disturbing the air. She had been detected immediately. Around the base of the building, Legislacerator cars were gathering to surround and enclose it. Trolls in the characteristic beetle armour swarmed in a morass, a river of shining carapaces blocking off every entrance. At a distance across the street a mobile base wagon was setting up, and cables were being run off to connection points to link up with the security systems. Inside, the head of security for the entire repository was in discussion with the Chief Justifist.  
“Uw-what's the situation so far?”  
“We haven't got a firm track yet, but the intruder is definitely on the ground floor and somewhere in the region of the West wing.”  
“How many men in that area?”  
“There's a permanent garrison of fifty guards, with regular patrols of ten men out at all time and the remainder in reserve. I've instructed them to clear the area and await instructions.”  
“Good,” Ampora grinned over his mug of coffee, “good.”  
“Can I ask why we aren't going in now? Normal protocol suggests we should move to apprehend immediately.”  
“Uw-what's your name, commander?”  
“Lauris, sir.”  
“This is no ordinary crime, Lauris. This is special.”  
“Sir?”  
“And special crimes attract special crime-fighters, I believe.”  
“I don't think I quite follow, but as you say, sir.”  
Ampora nodded. “Just you uw-wait.” He snapped his fingers for attention and a nearby Legislacerator who had been watching the bank of monitors connected to the repository security systems turned to him expectantly. “Uw-where is Commissioner Pyrope?”  
“Three minutes out, on the way by fast-wagon sir.”  
“Good. Carry on.”  
“Sir.”  
“Block off all street level entrances and barricade the roads, but no-one moves in uw-without my uw-word, is that clear?”  
“Sir!”  
  
Inside, Nepeta paused. She was huddled in a pitch-black corner, high up in a vaulted gallery, where one of the ornate roof-beams met the wall and formed a perfect little niche. She had seen no sign of any guards, yet. That bothered her- she had been prepared to evade any security measure, but she had expected to encounter at least a token force of guards. She closed her eyes and concentrated, pricking up her ears. She could hear the slightest creak of ancient timbers, and the soft whirr of a camera servomechanism at work in the next room, but not the slightest sound of footsteps. It was unexpected, but welcome. She presumed that the highbloods in charge of the place had decided to place their faith in automated systems rather then fallible people.  
  
Outside, a wagon screeched to a halt and Pyrope emerged, with a Legislacerator at her arm carefully guiding her around the massed barricades and Legislacerators on duty to where Ampora waited for her in his wagon. She caught the hum of high-gain antennae and felt haphazard lengths of cable underfoot as well as the unmistakeable smell-sense of bright monitors flickering with colours and ozone.  
“Pyrope! Come in.”  
“Sir.”  
“Sit down, sit down, get comfortable. Coffee?”  
“No, sir, thank you.”  
“Have you been briefed?”  
“The specialist burglar known as the Purrbeast Troll, yes?”  
“Quite so, quite so, but more importantly uw-we have and opportunity.”  
“An opportunity sir?”  
“To see what the so-called Flying Squeak-Beast Troll uw-will do.”  
  
Around them, a tension suddenly split the air. Officially the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll didn't exist. Officially the department put such wild ravings down to rumor-mongering and the foolishness of low-blooded and excitable citizens with too much imagination. To hear none other then the Chief Justifist mention him by name was unconscionable. Even Pyrope prickled, slightly.  
  
“You believe that something will happen, sir?” She spoke very diplomatically.  
“I do. I do. All of these... costumed freaks uw-we have been seeing lately. They are all of a type. We have one under lock-and-key, another is trapped right here, and tonight I plan to see the last of the set collected!”  
“And then, sir?”  
“And then you uw-will do as you have been commanded previously in... dispensing uw-with these matters.”  
“I see, sir.”  
Ampora laughed uncharacteristically, “so you, Pyrope? Do you see?”  
“A figure of speech, sir.”  
“Quite so, quite so.”  
  
Lauris had been listening attentively and coughed for attention discreetly.  
“Chief Justifist, word from inside. The intruder appears to have halted position, still no confirmed sighting yet. She might know something is up.”  
“Understood.”  
“Sir... I must remind you of my standing orders. In the event of intrusion-”  
Ampora held up a finger imperiously for silence and Lauris stilled. Ampora reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a silver coin, which he flipped into the air and caught.  
“You think uw-we should go in now?”  
“Sir... I have my orders.”  
Ampora stared down at the coin in his palm, and appeared to reach a decision.  
“No. Uw-we wait longer.”  
“Understood sir, I will inform the men.”  
  
Ampora had spoken. As much as Lauris was discomfited by the situation, Ampora had given him a direct order and, tacitly, accepted responsibility for the situation. If there was to be any comeback regarding the breach in regulations then it was on Ampora's head now.  
  
“Sir,” began Pyrope slowly, “if I may ask, did I just hear you flip a coin?”  
“You question my decision making process, Pyrope?”  
“I wish to understand it, sir, for my own education.”  
“Very uw-wise. Tell me Pyrope, do you think you could out-uw-wit me in a battle of uw-wits and prowess?”  
“I would never contemplate it, sir.”  
“Come, Pyrope, be honest. Do you think you could get the better of me?”  
Pyrope tried to keep a neutral tone to her voice, answering stiffly, “perhaps, sir, if I were prepared and... lucky.”  
“Good answer, Pyrope. But tell me, how do you out-think a tumbling coin?”  
Pyrope, for her part, just stared blankly ahead and thought about that for a moment.  
“I suppose that I couldn't, sir.”  
“Quite right. Learn from this, Pyrope. Uw-when dealing uw-with a chaotic situation, the only logical course is to rely on a chaotic decision-making process.”  
Pyrope nodded, more to disguise the fact that Ampora's almost jolly tones made her shiver.  
  
Nepeta made her way through a high arched opening into a wide space dominated by a wide, curving staircase upwards. Ahead and above her were arranged galleries of the most expensive and exquisite art, all waiting for her keen appraisal. She didn't have much use for art, but she knew what she liked. Nepeta smirked and  her way up the bannister, careful not to touch any of the stairs.  
  
Lauris leaned over to whisper discreetly.  
“Sir, we have confirmation that the intruder has entered the second story art block. At this point I must insist on taking action.”  
Ampora nodded sagely, and flipped his coin again. He examined the result, and mutely shook his head.  
  
Nepeta carefully lifted a gold circlet from the sculpted brow of a marble bust depicting some long-dead ruler. She liked jewellery the best, it was light, easy to carry, and offered the best value-to-weight ratio. Also, she enjoyed shiny things. She patted the marble bust cheerfully, before swarming up the wall and away. The marble bust now weighed some scant amount less then before, and a pressure sensor duly reported this anomaly to the security stations. In the control wagon, Lauris was practically vibrating by now. One more, Ampora flipped his coin- and shook his head. Lauris glanced over at Pyrope, who remained impassive.  
  
Nepeta carefully ran a claw-tip over the seam where a glass panel was set into the face of a display cabinet. With effortless ease she removed the glass and snaked a hand inside to begin picking out gems and baubles that pleased her, all to nestle in the well padded pouch at her hip. Even if she were to leave straight away this would already have been the most lucrative haul she had ever pulled off. Nepeta pulled down her mask-like goggles to scan the room and grinned. She had no intention of leaving now, when things were getting good.  
  
She passed through gallery after gallery, disturbing nothing, leaving behind nothing except a memory. She was no more then a ghost passing along the walls and corridors of the ancient repository. According to myth, ancient tokens passed down from a succession of absolute rulers and dating from the earliest times of civilization were preserved here and Nepeta intended on finding out if that were true. She had moved past mere riches now; the items she carefully lifted were literally beyond price- impossible to sell, impossible event o put a real value on. She was stealing for herself now, not for money. The collected authority and dignity from uncounted  generations of highbloods would adorn her dressing table, her mirror, her bedside table. The thought piqued her intensely. The decadence of it all drove her on inexorably.  
  
“Well,” said Lauris morosely, “there goes the largest single diamond ever mined. A little piece of history carried off.”  
“Courage,” said Ampora, staring into a screen, “have a little dignity about it.”  
“You're talking about the riches of the ages!”  
“Don't live in the past, the future is so much more interesting.”  
Ampora was fingering that coin again.  
“The second story is all galleries,” added Lauris, “but the third is mostly a series of interconnected secure vaults. Very difficult to search them all properly, it's like a maze.”  
  
Ampora sighed and held up his coin for Lauris to see. He very deliberately flipped it again, and looked down at his palm. This time he raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.  
“All right. Inform the men, uw-we're going in- now.”  
  
The order had been given, and the great iron double doors of the repository swung open in utter silence on their electrical gimbals. Legislacerator teams approached warily, their weapons shouldered, and in that eerie silence they made their way in teams of three, taking up position with military perfection. Each team was covering another, every angle was observed and every weapon carefully trained. The marble floors clicked and thrummed to the sound of boot heels as the  figured swarmed about. Their throat-mike radios were almost silent, and they communicated mostly though hand signals. The overall effect was nothing so much as a swarm of ants moving purposefully through a forest of art and treasure.  
  
Nepeta had no warning anything was wrong; she worked open a lock and made her way into a gallery filled with glass fronted cabinets, all of them full of jewellery. She would glance over each case in an instant, picking out the real treasures from the trash. Most of this stuff had sentimental value to some long forgotten empress or other perhaps, but it was hardly what she was there for. She paused in front of one cabinet and was briefly entranced by a collection of vividly cerulean stones that had been polished and ground into perfect spheres. It was only by chance that she had stopped there, and chance saved her. In the glass she caught a flicker of movement behind her own reflection- someone was there. She moved without thinking, ducking and rolling under the cabinet even as it exploded into a shower of glass shards and splinters as the Legislacerator opened fire. The hail of lancefire ripped through the ornate plaster mouldings on the walls and raised up a hail of dust. Nepeta had scampered under a table but there was no cover there, she knew she only had moments left. The team of Legislacerators moved stealthily through the room, murmuring into their radios to alert the others. Nepeta looked about her wildly, and from her position she could make out the dark shape of a doorway at the opposing end of the gallery. Fro all she knew another squad was on the other side of that door waiting, but she had to chance it. She darted out of cover, sprinting for all she was worth and threw herself at the door, tucking her shoulder under her and slamming into it with all her weight. The door creaked and gave way and she was through, even as the door surrounds were laced with holes as the Legislacerators opened fire. She saw a railing in front of her and leaped over it without a second thought. The door had opened out onto a walkway that surrounded the second level of an enormous open space, and as she fell Nepeta span and twisted in the air, landing awkwardly and jarring several joints. She cried out at the sudden, bright pain flexing through her legs but her shock boots had taken the worst of it, she knew she had to go on.  
  
Nepeta had escaped her immediate threat only to land in worse- the ground floor was swarming with Legislacerator teams. She charged through a wide arched entrance into an exhibition of early ceramic art and clambered up a pillar to hide in the curving eaves of the room. She tried to bring her breathing under control, staring down at her shaking palms in frustration. Her fingers simply refused to bend, she realised that she was panicking. Nepeta closed her eyes and murmured under her breath.  
“Control, control, going to be okay, get it together, got to get out of here meow,” she chuckled at her ridiculously inappropriate pun and clamped her hands over her mouth. Now was not the time. With a clatter of boots a team of three Legislacerators ran under her to the other end of the gallery, and she nearly squeaked. If they had looked up they might well have seen her. She knew she had to move.  
  
In the command post Lauris was barking orders to his own men through a radio while Ampora calmly issued dictates to the Legislacerators.  
“Chief Justifist! Your men have just shot up a priceless series of displays, this is unacceptable!”  
Ampora finished issuing his orders before answering.  
“Unacceptable? Do you fuckin' know uw-what uw-we're doing here? This isn't an excersise in restrain, uw-we are here to fuckin' kill everything uw-we see, and I don't care if we have to burn your stupid museum to the ground doin' it!”  
Lauris was shocked, his mouth hung open mutely. Ampora had gone from an almost supernatural calm to a driven, unrelenting focus on the task at hand.  
“This- I'll report-”  
Ampora snapped his fingers testily and a Legislacerator saluted stiffly.  
“Take the museum director of security to a car and see he stays there.”  
“You can't do this!”  
“I think you'll find I can do all sorts of things,” Ampora paused and flipped his coin, checking the result, “yes. Yes I can.”  
  
Nepeta found herself sprinting along another corridor. They were all starting to look the same now, and she was relying on her goggles to provide an amplified image- this helped her to avoid pitfalls but the monochrome image made the place into even more a maze. The Legislacerators had started at the bottom and were working upward room by room, and she was being driven ahead of them. They were unnaturally quiet but she could hear them- boots and muted voices, the click of weapons and equipment. They were close behind her, too close. She knew that she couldn't outrun them forever and even if she did, what then? She would only end up in a dead end all the sooner.  
  
She burst around a corner at a dead run and  she had made a mistake. She had run into another large room with a high ceiling lest in shadows somewhere several floors above. It was dominated by an enormous statue easily twenty or thirty feet tall, made out of purest marble. The features of a dead emperor seemed to mock her as in front of her, three Legislacerators turned and leveled their lances. She had to skid to a halt to avoid being impaled. They had her. She took a step back and one of them barked an order at her.  
“Don't move! Get down on your knees, hands behind your head! Do it bitch!”  
  
Nepeta swallowed and slowly knelt down. That last comment stung. She resolved to at least give them something to remember her by, if these were to be her last moments. One of them approached her, unhooking a set of plastic cuffs from his belt. Nepeta crouched down and span, lashing a leg out, and the heavy Legislacerator screamed as his knee shattered under her shock boot. The other two instantly shouldered lances.  
“Bad fucking mistake,” the leader growled, as the downed Legislacerator shuffled backwards using his good leg, still yelling and grasping his knee.  
“Yeah? Well it was worth it.” She stared up the barrel of the lance fearlessly, “it was all worth it.”  
  
Nepeta closed her eyes, she no longer felt afraid, and murmured under her breath, “Kar-”  
  
There was a harsh mechanical whine as a winching servo-mechanism suddenly activated. A noose of filament wire dropped around the waist of a Legislacerator and tightened taut instantly. His weapon discharged into the wall as he was carried, screaming, up into the air. The scream was cut off suddenly.  
  
Nepeta opened her eyes, and found herself staring at the lead Legislacerator's shocked expression. They stared at each other for a second, neither knowing what happened. The Legislacerator slowly backed away and turned, unwilling to take his eyes off Nepeta.  
“Someone there?” He called. “Surrender immediately!”  
  
Nepeta shrieked and the man turned around in time to see it- a great, gathering shape that came out of the blackness above them, detaching from the shadows to spread enormous wings like a demonic figure of legend. It landed heavily against the Legislacerator's chest and the wings closed around him, his weapon firing at nothing. The shape flipped up off the chest of the fallen Legislacerator smoothly and landed in front of Nepeta, it held out a hand to her.  
“Come with me- now.”  
  
The Legislacerator in the corner forgot all about his knee, and thumbed his mike frantically as they left.  
“Unit- shit- unit nine-alpha! It's! It's him! He's here!”  
  
in the command post Ampora smacked his hand down on the table triumphantly and lifted it to revel his coin deposited there, with the heads side up. Pyrope leaned back in her seat.  
“Now,” said Ampora, “uw-we're ending this. You and me, Pyrope. You and me.”  
  



	12. Chapter 12

Nepeta limped on, trying not to put too much strain on her ankles until the last lingering flare of pain had died down. She could feel that her right ankle was going to be swollen in the morning already, where she had landed on it. The adrenaline that had electrified her senses and powered her limbs this far had drained away to be replaced by a cold, deadening dread when she had realised that they were coming. She was slowing down, she needed to catch her breath. Her ears were ringing from the shouting and lancefire blasts, her nostrils flared with acrid smoke from destroyed plaster and the tang of ozone that accompanied weapons fire. The pitch-black walls, shadows broken only by irregular shapes of art and jewellery picking up the dim light, were wavering and hallucinatory. She knew she was lost and disoriented, and she just wanted to lay down and sleep more then she believed she had wanted anything at all.  
  
Even now, in the heat of danger, she was admonishing herself mentally. She had been foolish to try for the museum without a lot more preparation. She had finally allowed her lust for the chase, the thrill of taking the wealth of aeons for herself, to overcome her sense of self-preservation. She had to be more careful, if she was permitted a tomorrow. Yet, pessimism hadn't quite overcome her, and hope had not yet completely fled, because she was not alone. There was another one with her now, and he was walking through the massed forces of the Legislacerators like an avenging god-king of congealed rage and darkness.  
  
Karkat drove forwards, marching at a steady, unstoppable pace. Ahead of him two Legislacerators span into position from around a corner and levelled their weapons. With a dismissive flick of a wrist he hurled a miniature grenade that detonated with a resounding crack, flattening them both and leaving one with a hopelessly crumpled breastplate. He had no particular desire to kill, but in this moment he was in no mood at all the permit anyone to stop him. Karkat ducked under a savage blow and cut upwards with a hand sickle into the armpit of another Legislacerator, leaving her screaming in agony and clawing helplessly to try and staunch a frothing wound.  
  
Nepeta staggered into a grand rectangular hall surmounted by a crenellated upper gallery. A cluster of beetle-armoured men advanced haphazardly on the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll, who seemed to reach upwards. She could just about make out something in his hand but she couldn't identify the device, and then suddenly he was hauled up into the air, like a puppet drawn up on a string, to disappear into the black above. The Legislacerators cried out in disarray as their quarry vanished before them and after a moment noticed her. Nepeta cried out as ten men turned on her with weapons at the ready. Without warning the awful black shape was back, behind them somehow, piling into the unprepared group and destroying them utterly with a series of precise, measured strikes. Bones snapped and tendons burst, and the beleaguered Legislacerators could only scream as they were decimated. The Flying Squeak-Beast Troll was merciless.  
  
Then he was beckoning mutely to her again, and Nepeta followed.  
  
“Where are we going?”  
“Follow me,”  
“There's no way out that way!”  
“The only way out is that way.”  
“That leads right to the main entrance!”  
“We're leaving through the front doors.”  
“Are you joking?”  
  
He rounded on her suddenly and she found herself face to face with his terrible, impassive visage.  
“Do I look like I'm joking?”  
  
Karkat wondered, just for a moment, whether he was laying it on too thick. He had to keep going, hard to keep moving, and he couldn't afford for her to doubt what was happening now. If the Purrbeast Troll decided to make a run for it, he knew he couldn't chase her down at the same time as keeping track of the Legislacerators everywhere and plotting his escape, and so he had to keep her stunned and compliant enough to follow along with what he was doing. There would be time for talk later, time for everything later, but for now there was only the escape.  
  
Nepeta saw the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll tap the side of his cowl and mutter something, then he appeared to be listening. Whoever was talking to him seemed to have something satisfying to say, as her protector just nodded, grabbed her wrist and propelled her onwards.  
  
They came to the top of a grand, curving staircase that led down fully thirty feet to the massive double doors that opened out onto the concourse before the museum. The doors were themselves enormous, bronze affairs with inlaid reliefs depicting violent scenes from history. There was a loud crash from outside, and then the doors swung silently inwards. A boiling mass of opaque white smoke filtered through, a thick wall of solid white nothing expanding out into the hall. Karkat held up a hand and they stopped at the head of the stairs looking down.  
  
“I can't see anything,” Karkat hissed.  
“I can,” Nepeta touched the controls in the rim of her goggles and the lenses shifted slightly, polarising and adjusting. In her monochrome vision she saw denser patches within the cloud, people moving slowly but purposefully.  
  
“They are coming,” she breathed.  
“How many?”  
“Too many to fight.”  
  
Karkat grimaced. “Don't worry. We've got a plan, and there is a way out coming. When the time comes, hold onto me as tightly as you can.”  
  
Outside the museum, Ampora had gathered a cadre of men around him. On his command the lock for the door was blown apart with a crash of shaped explosive, and men on either side of the doors pushed them silently open while another laid down a series of smoke grenades to provide cover.  
“Uw-we're going in,” Ampora announced, “establish a secure position inside the museum. And then, s-uw-weep and clear.”  
Just behind him, Pyrope was silent. She knew there was nothing she could do to influence events one way or another, now. In the distance, just on the periphery of her hearing but growing louder, there was a high-pitched whine. Pyrope paused as the others marched forwards purposefully, looking sightlessly around her. The whine was getting closer, and as it did the noise was taking on more of the quality of an engine, powerful and straining.  
  
Ampora emerged from the cloud eagerly, careless of finding cover, and stared about him wildly. Either side of him he was flanked by heavily armed Legislacerators with calm, trained movements. At the top of the stairs Karkat tensed, knowing they had moments before discovery, but he didn't move, yet. He reached behind him and unshackled a device from his belt which fitted neatly over his fist, it looked like a set of pistons mounted horizontally across his knuckles, with a bulky driver unit that clamped around his wrist.  
“What are you doing,” Nepeta whispered, “we have to go!”  
“Just a moment, my ride is coming.”  
Nepeta sighed and gave him a wry look. “You know, I have a rule against getting in cars with strange men.”  
Karkat just smirked to himself. “It's not a car...”  
  
From a block away, the whine had become a growl, and then a full-throated roar of gas-turbine fury. The whole street was illuminated in angry, vivid white floodlights as a great solid mass of steel slid into view, silhouetted by the flames erupting from the exhausts at it's rear. Impossibly huge, thick tyres churned greedily as it devoured the distance to the waiting museum. Parked cars were shouldered out of the way almost insolently, one was hurled into the air and landed on it's roof as the machine clipped it in passing. The Legislacerators manning the barricade across the road screamed and leaped out of the way, and before it reached the museum the vehicle screeched and turned, leaving a cloud of smoke and melted rubber behind as it turned to face it's blunt, armoured nose up the steps of the building. With another roar it leaped forwards, clearing the steps and smashing an armoured response van out of the way effortlessly. The doorway, wide though it was, still was a little too small and the vehicle rammed through in a cloud of brick dust. Legislacerators screamed and turned, Ampora fled, darting back away from the diabolic vision illuminating the hall balefully.  
  
“Now!”  
Karkat raised his fist up and the two pistons flicked out, one pointing ahead and one behind. Two steel harpoons were blasted out with an explosive crack, one of them lodging high in the wall behind them and the other in the lintel above the great main doors. Each harpoon was trailed by a length of expander wire, and at the touch of a control the line went taut. Nepeta clung on as the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll was lifted up by the taut wire, and then they slid downwards rapidly along the newly constructed zip-line. The only Legislacerator who had the wherewithal and luck to be staring in the right direction at the time lifted his weapon and received a kick to the head as they slid past.  
  
Karkat let go just as they were above the top of his vehicle, where the upper hatch was already open and waiting. They landed in Stygian darkness and the hatch clanged shut above them. The machine spluttered into life and reversed sharply, grinding over the leg of an unlucky Legislacerator in passing, and powered away at speed.  
  
Remaining in the hall, the Legislacerators pulled themselves upright, looking at each other in blank incomprehension. In the doorway, Pyrope picked her way forwards gingerly through the smoke and debris.  
“What the hell just happened?” She called out, “someone talk to me!”  
Ampora stepped forwards, just staring in a daze.  
“Those toys,” he muttered, “where does he get those wonderful toys?”  
  
The city was alive with fire and fury, the news was spreading far more quickly then it could be contained by the authorities. There had been explosions, and destruction, and an elite cadre of the Legislacerators had been made fools of by _him._ On every channel, across every network, programming was interrupted to make the announcement. Tonight, the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll was out there. No one could say where he had come from, or where he was going, but a living embodiment of the howl of anguish that had been brewing steadily in the night was abroad on the streets and thoroughfares of the city. The authorities knew it, the watching civilians knew it, and those who had reason to fear the coming of justice knew it. The roads thrummed and vibrated as his massive, squat armoured vehicle thundered past. Windows gleamed ablaze in the reflection of vivid orange flames, and the deafening thunder of his engines seemed to be everywhere.  
  
Long after the hubbub had died down, and the news broadcasters had been instructed to faithfully report that all was normal with nothing to be concerned about, the echoes of that midnight drive were flowing like a heartbeat through the streets. The city had lived in fear, the people had been broken and crushed beneath the bootheels of a carefree aristocracy, but now fear was a real, living thing that existed, and acted, and drove along their streets in an apocalyptic nightmare of a vehicle. They were already calling it the Flying Squeak-Beastmobile. Tonight, the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll was on the move.  
  
Nepeta stared out of a tiny, armoured slit at the passing streetways. Each lamp-post that went by sent a violently yellow slot of light flickering up her face for a moment. Inside the machine was surprisingly quiet; the armoured shell was thick enough to keep out the worst of the engine roar. She glanced fearfully across at the man next to her who was piloting the machine. Now she had a chance to study him more closely she could see the tracings of his armour, and the seams where plates fit together snugly. She could see the scratches and the dirt, the places where flecks of blood had clung to him and frantic hands had clawed at him. She could see that, as fearful as he was, he was a living, breathing being too.  
“Who are you?”  
“Who do you think I am?”  
“I think...” Nepeta paused, “I think you're someone who wants to make a difference. Maybe under all that armour and that mask, you're just another crazy dreamer.”  
Karkat considered this for a moment.  
“It's not who I am under this mask that matters,” he said curtly, “it's what I do that defines me.”  
  
Deep underground, Sollux watched what was unfolding. He could see everything through the video pickups in the vehicle. He had controlled it remotely and sent it to pick up Karkat, but he hadn't been expecting a passenger.  
“KK,” he spoke into the mike, “take a left, then protheed along the thtraght run up to thixthteenth, then you can get into the thewer thythtem through the main outlet pipe in the drainage canal.”  
  
In response he just saw Karkat nod slightly, rather then speak aloud and let the Purrbeast Troll beside him hear.  
  
“Kar, are you thure thith ith a good idea? I mean it'th one thing to make contact, but bringing her here?”  
There was another nod.  
“Well, okay. I'll hide when you get here.”  
  
Karkat steered his armoured behemoth off the roads and into the ancient drainage canal as Sollux instructed, and from there he could enter the massive opening to the outlet pipe. There was a natural hiding place along a secondary tunnel where he parked, and they got out. The spot had been chosen deliberately and obviously prepared in advance, there was a steel shutter which came down in front of the Flying Squeak-Beastmobile and hid it from view, and to an untrained eye it looked as though the pipe had been sealed off by the municipal works department.  
  
“Come on,”  
“Where are you taking me now?”  
“Somewhere safe.”  
  
The lair of the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll was not easy to reach, the high platform above the pipework and waterways that echoed below was chosen with good reason, but as Karkat vaulted and leaped up the hidden maze of handholds and paths, Nepeta kept pace with him easily. She had recovered mostly from her ordeal, and now her overriding curiosity was once again getting the better of her.  
  
They emerged at the wide concrete platform, suspended from the high vaulted roof above, and Nepeta looked around her in amazement. The amount of equipment was simply baffling but more then that, she was seeing behind the illusion of the Flying Squeak-Beast Troll at last. He had to be wealthy, that was fur sure, and incredibly intelligent to put all of the computer equipment together.  
  
“I can't believe it,” she whistled, “how long have you been down here? It looks like you have everything!”  
“It feels like it's been forever, sometimes.”  
“Why have you brought me here, though?”  
“Because,” he turned, “I wanted you to know you can trust me. And the only way to do that is to trust you first.”  
“You mean by showing me all your stuff?”  
“I suppose so.”  
  
Nepeta walked around, slowly. She examined each bank of equipment, each cabinet, each worktable carefully.  
“My moirail would love all this,” she mused.  
“Mm.”  
  
From an old water flow control room in the distance, Sollux was watching. He thumbed his microphone and hissed.  
“Bad idea, KK, she shouldn't be here theeing all thith!”  
  
Nepeta turned at last to face him. He hadn't moved, only watched her impassively.  
“What do you really want from me?”  
“You've seen what I have been doing,”  
“Yes,”  
“I need help. I need allies, I can't do it all alone.”  
“I don't really play too well with others. I have a bad habit of scratching and biting!”  
Karkat twitched the corner of his mouth, the hint of a smile, “I can take it.”  
“I just bet you can. I'm not so sure about all this though. It sounds like a private war.”  
“It is justice!”  
Nepeta sighed dramatically, stretching her body with a little sigh.  
“Justice. Now you sound just like my matesprit.”  
“Maybe he has some good ideas.”  
“You'd hate him, he's all about spreading good deeds without ever actually doing anything.”  
“You remind me of someone too.”  
“Oh?”  
“She is impulsive, petulant, doesn't think about anything except what she wants.”  
“I like her already.”  
That got another of the little half-smiles out of her.  
  
Nepeta slouched over to him, her boots clicking pertly on the concrete, and traced a fingertip over his armoured chest.  
“We should get my guy and your girl together one day, they'd be perfect for one another.”  
“It sounds like you're saying you don't want to be involved.”  
She hesitated. He just stared at her steadily.  
“Would it be all right to say, I need a little time to think it over?”  
“All right.”  
  
He showed he a safe way to leave, and saw to it that she reached the streets undetected. When he returned, Sollux was frothing.  
“What the actual fuck wath all that about? You let her jutht go?”  
Karkat groaned and removed the cowl with a click, his hair was matted down with sweat and grime from his evening's exertions.  
“Yes, that's right.”  
“She could tell thomeone!”  
“Who? And what exactly would she tell them?”  
“It'th a thtupid rithk!”  
“Don't worry,” Karkat clasped his shoulder fondly, “I have a feeling I'll be seeing her again. Now, I have to get home. Nepeta will be waiting for me!”  
Sollux rolled his eyes, “thith can't end well.”  
  



End file.
